


faith is a series of complications

by Knightblazer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Angelcest, Angst, Australian Aboriginal Mythology, Basically a lot of mythology abuse and handwaving, Bittersweet, Celtic Mythology & Folklore, Complicated Relationships, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Japanese Mythology & Folklore, M/M, Mythology - Freeform, Norse Mythology - Freeform, Season/Series 06, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-22
Updated: 2012-03-21
Packaged: 2017-11-02 08:37:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 101,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/367065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Knightblazer/pseuds/Knightblazer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While trapped in the strange alternate universe that Balthazar sent them to, Sam and Dean meet the one person they never expected to see again—Gabriel, who has been living in that world ever since Lucifer killed him. While going out on his way to send the brothers back and return to his comfortable life in the alternate universe, instead Gabriel ends up crossing over as well and gets stuck there. While waiting for his ticket home Gabriel finds out too much and gets more than he bargained for when he finds himself falling into a complicated relationship with Castiel and has perhaps one too many things to answer for as the threat of Eve looms closer and everything is all not what it seems to be. More than that however, Gabriel discovers once and for all just what he has to stand for—and for exactly <i>who</i> he is standing for. AU from 6.15 ‘The French Mistake’. (Written for the 2011/2012 <a href="http://gabriel-bigbang.livejournal.com/">gabriel_bigbang</a> challenge.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hoooo boy. Here is the monster fic I've been writing since September, and I'm really glad to be finally posting it. Written for the 2011/2012 [gabriel_bigbang](http://gabriel-bigbang.livejournal.com/), and the masterpost with full links and donwloads can be found [here](http://tasogareika.livejournal.com/115222.html), while tl;dr author's commentary (if you wish to read it) can be found [here](http://tasogareika.livejournal.com/114755.html). I really, really hope you guys enjoy this fic as much as I had a blast writing this (even though IDK how it got this long), and feel free to leave any and all comments when you guys are done.

**Ø: prologue—nobody thinks about you.**

When the blade plunged into him, Gabriel had felt pain like no other—it wasn’t just a normal sort of injury he could recover back from with a snap. This was a blade ( _his_ own blade) right into his _Grace_ , the very energy that made him up and anchored to the very fabric of his existence. It hurt more than an angel who would rip their own Grace out, hurt more than any other injury he had ever received, hurt more than every ache in his heart he felt when he made himself turn in the other direction and ignore what his mind screamed for him to do. The blade cracked through his Grace, shattering it as it burned through his being and Gabriel could feel his wings breaking apart, fragments of light and Grace scattering into the shadows that Lucifer cast in front of him.

He felt himself slipping, his very existence being unwound by the power of his own blade. The loss of his senses was instantaneous; numbness rushing throughout his entire form as everything broke and splintered, burning him up dry. Even though Gabriel knew he was burning with broken Grace now, it was not light that overtook him but darkness—darkness of the dimming Morningstar’s light in his own eyes as the Trickster collapsed, Grace burning out from within and around him.

The impact of hitting the floor never even registered to him, as the entire world blacked out even before he reached the ground.

If this was how his life was supposed to end, then it sure was a shitty way to go.


	2. first act

**I: first act—you can’t win a race with a cannonball.**

Dean Winchester’s life was fucked.

Not that this was any surprise to him, nor should it have been—but one might think after stopping the goddamned _Apocalypse_ he would be entitled to something better. But no, everything went on a downward roll starting with Sam (or well, Sam without his frigging _soul_ ) showing back up in his life to—to _this_. Words couldn’t even describe exactly just how fucked up everything about this world was. His life was a freaking _television show_ here, for God’s sake. Who the hell would have ever thought of turning his life into some serial drama? Chuck and his books had been bad enough, not that he had seen any of them again ever since Armageddon was put to a screeching halt; and of course, Dean had no intention of changing that fact. He just had about enough of his life being paraded around for the entire world (worlds) to know.

The only good thing to come out of this whole train wreck was probably the fact that nobody could come after them now, especially with what Balthazar had done—although considering their situation, Dean wasn’t certain if this was going to be a good or bad thing. Without any means of getting to Cas, and having next to no idea what to do now that they had the keys to Heaven’s weapon department in their hands (well Sam’s giant hands, but the point still stood), complicated was pretty much an understatement as to their current state.

“Everything about this place _sucks_ ,” the elder Winchester growled under his breath while both he and Sam sat in the chairs in the studio as they waited for their driver (they had a _driver_ , what was this world coming to?), pointedly trying to ignore some of the stares that the other people were giving both of them. It was bad enough that this place was already bad touching him; he didn’t need to go through this as well. Seriously, just what the hell was up with this world? His life was not supposed to be turned into some crappy late night show that nobody would watch because it aired at strange times when nobody would bother to be up anyway. Not that this was a bad thing, since that meant that less people actually watched it. But the point still stood.

Sam let out a loud breath through his nose, doing that little worried-cum-thoughtful frown of his as he did a little glance around (and maybe sort of attempting to look as natural as he could, which really wasn’t too natural looking at all). “Yeah, you’re telling me.” Dean didn’t even need to look at his brother to know that Sam was just about as freaked out as he was. 

He had a feeling that Sam hadn’t really quite gotten over the fact that he had been asked about the time he was running around without his soul. And yeah, he was right—there was the beginning of a familiar bitchface (#276 aka I really hate this place and want to go away now) from the younger Winchester, as Sam ran a hand through his hair in the way that showed that he was trying to think.

“Once we get out of this place—” Sam started somewhat cautiously, in the way that meant he wasn’t actually so sure what he was doing, but was suggesting it anyway since he had no other viable idea. “Once we’re out of here, we need to get the real ingredients and do the spell that Balthazar did on us, so we can return to our own world.”

“Said that earlier, Sammy,” Dean returned in a grunt, leaning forward and balancing his elbows on his knees, trying to keep his legs still as he glanced at the various stagehands and crew members loitering around the set. Everybody was wrapping up for the day, so the props and scenes were being packed up as much as possible as the stage lights shut down. Dean blinked at the sudden change in the lighting as the stronger ones shut off, feeling the flashes still flickering behind his eyelids as he squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head to try and clear them off.

If there was just somebody who could pop up and help them—

“Hey, boys!”

Both Winchesters snapped their heads up at the voice, reeling for a moment at the familiarity of it. It had been well over a year now—nearly two—since they least heard that voice, and that had been from Sam’s laptop when a faint smile came from under that ridiculous fake moustache of his. Even now, Dean could still recall the last words he had heard Gabriel speak. 

(“This is me standing up… and this is me lying down.”)

But—no, this probably wasn’t Gabriel, no matter how much this guy who was all but bouncing towards them _looked_ like Gabriel and sounded like Gabriel and seemed to be a bit too Gabriel-like for Dean to be comfortable with. Cas hadn’t even been Cas at all (and seriously, that Misha guy was just _wrong_ on so many levels), so it wasn’t too much of a stretch to assume that this guy (whoever he was) wasn’t Gabriel either. Besides, even if he _was_ Gabriel, Dean was pretty certain that the archangel wouldn’t even want to help them—he knew now how much it hurt when your own brother turned on you, and no matter how much of a dick Lucifer was, it didn’t change the fact that Gabriel was his brother, and Lucifer _killed_ Gabriel. The archangel-slash-Trickster might have been a dick (one of the biggest, although Zachariah was a lot worse—if not just as bad), but at least he had his heart in the right place. Dean could respect that fact, at least.

Sam looked torn between wanting to shout out the name of the angel and saying something they were both most likely going to regret, but managed to keep his mouth shut as the Gabriel look-alike closed the distance and stood before the duo. Even though this person wasn’t Gabriel at all, the way he carried himself sure reminded him of the archangel, close enough that it made Dean’s spine crawl. No matter what had happened, the whole incident at Mystery Spot really wasn’t an easy memory to forget. Dying about a thousand times in the same day tended to do that to you. (Not that he could remember it, but the point still stood—guy was an asshole.)

Not!Gabriel probably felt the animosity that both Winchesters were radiating towards him, seeing as he frowned and tilted his head to the side, hazel eyes studying the brothers. A flicker of uncertainty crossed his face—something distinctly _un_ -Gabriel-like—and not!Gabriel leaned closer to the two, putting his face almost dangerously close to both of them.

“Something on your mind, J-squared?” he started, now looking between both of them with something of a worried expression. “Did something happen on the set earlier? Any cease and desist letters?” He paused to look at Sam. “Did your alpaca die a horrible death like I told you it would?”

The younger Winchester stared back at not!Gabriel, and Dean could all-too easily read the expression that was on his brother’s face (Bitchface #157 - aka is that question supposed to be for real or not, either way I am not amused). 

“Well, maybe not,” not!Gabriel continued on, not really bothering with the fact that Sam hadn’t answered him. “Gen would be pretty devastated if that happened.”

“Gen?” Sam started before he could help himself, and Dean shot his brother a glare. This was really not helping the situation at all.

Not!Gabriel gave Sam a confused look, one eyebrow arching up. “Uh, yeah? Genevieve? Your _wife_ , Jared.”

If it were possible, Sam’s eyes would have been as big as beach balls now with the sheer surprise written all over his face. Dean on the other hand all but stopped in his mental tracks, because holy shit, fake Sam had a _wife_? Now he had to wonder if fake him had one too. He really hoped that wasn’t the case though, because that would just be awkward.

Dean blinked when not!Gabriel started to wave a hand before his face, peering ever closer now. “Yoohoo, anybody home?”

“Stop that,” Dean growled as he batted the hand away. 

That action earned an obviously false look of hurt from not!Gabriel, who pouted as he spoke. “So mean, Jensen. And here I thought we were best buds. Pushing me away now that you and Jared are finally noticing each other’s existence?”

“Look,” Sam started, cutting in before Dean could lose his temper and say something that wasn’t going to work in their favour. “We would appreciate it if you could leave us; we’re kind of… busy.”

Not!Gabriel rolled his eyes. “If you mean busy as in ‘sitting around like a bunch of gargoyles’, sure.” He did stop though, the concerned look crossing his face once again as he glanced at the duo. “Seriously, guys—what’s wrong?”

“Everything about this is wrong,” Dean muttered in an undertone.

There was a sympathetic glance from not!Gabriel this time. “Eric happened, huh? He did something crazy on the script again?”

“…Something like that,” Sam was the one who answered, wincing a bit at the lie. At least it wasn’t all that wrong.

“Ah, well then—” Not!Gabriel leaned forward, clapping both Winchesters on their shoulders as he started to move, walking past them. “I suppose it’s time to drown out our sorrows. Let me go find Clif and see if he’ll drive us over to my place.”

“What—” Sam started and turned around with Dean following behind, but by the time they looked back not!Gabriel had already vanished in the hustle and bustle of the stagehands.

  


One hour later, both Sam and Dean found themselves in a car driving down a highway, passing by the Canadian flag (“Son of a _bitch_ , we’re not even in the States.”) as they turned into the city. By now both Winchesters were trying not to freak out over everything as not!Gabriel chatted merrily with the driver who was chauffeuring them back to… wherever not!Gabriel’s place was.

“—so I told Misha how much that girl freaked out and _man_ , was he amused.” Not!Gabriel’s eyes were twinkling, looking far too amused as he was recounting some weird rhino thing to the driver; apparently it involved some kind of weird scavenger hunt or something, but Dean wasn’t really paying attention (half of the things that not!Gabriel was saying wasn’t really making sense at all). “Seriously, trolling the kids like that? Not good for publicity, but heck if I care. He’s a genius, I tell you. Pure genius.”

“As long as we don’t end up with hate mail,” Clif returned somewhat dryly, keeping his eyes trained on the road.

Not!Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes in response. “As if something like that can stop Misha from doing his work—make a right turn there, at the next junction.”

The car lurched a little when Clif turned it around, causing both Sam and Dean to grab onto the nearby handles out of instinct. Both Clif and not!Gabriel had their backs turned though, so the brothers could quickly let go before anything more awkward even happened. Not!Gabriel continued to chat with Clif while directing him towards his place (“Left, then straight, and then turn back around and go right. Yeah, my place is in a weird spot.”), making enough turns on the road that lesser men would have most probably already thrown up by the time they finally arrived at their destination. Having spent his life on the road though, Dean only felt relatively drained when he got out of the car, Sam following behind with yet another one of his bitchfaces (#58; better known as I really, _really_ hated that car ride).

“Thanks for the ride again, Clif,” Not!Gabriel went as he closed the car door behind him and gave a small wave. “See ya tomorrow!”

Sam and Dean watched as the car drove off into the distance, seeing it disappear around the corner. They turned back to not!Gabriel once the car had vanished, watching him walk up the steps of his house as the man fished out his keys from the pockets of his pants.

Sam looked over to Dean, and the brothers gave each other the facial expression equivalent of ‘so what the hell are we going to do now?’ for about ten seconds before the younger Winchester replied to the unspoken question with a shrug. “Guess we go in.”

Dean scowled. “I hope we leave soon.” Nothing about this was sitting well with him.

Sam shrugged again and started to walk towards the house—and without much choice in the matter, Dean followed. Not!Gabriel was at the door when they entered, closing it behind them and tossing his keys onto the nearby table once both Winchesters were in the building.

“About time you two decided to come in,” he said, somehow sounding amused despite the words as he moved to settle himself on what seemed to be the most comfortable armchair in the living room, arching one eyebrow at the duo who continued to stand. “Well, what are you two waiting for?”

The brothers glanced at each other once more, but eventually moved to sit down on the long couch next to the armchair that not!Gabriel had draped himself onto. Not!Gabriel gave a small smile that looked a bit too much like Gabriel’s.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” he spoke, raising his hand and snapping his fingers—

—and then a plate of sweets instantly appeared at the table. The Winchesters both jumped from their seats in surprise, their eyes widening as they instantly put two and two together. 

Sam was the one who let out his shock first. “ _Gabriel?_ ”

Gabriel’s smile grew wider. “The one and only, Gigantor.”

Both Sam and Dean could only stare in shock at not—no, the _real_ Gabriel, apparently alive and well all this time in another world when they had thought he was dead. And he _was_ dead; the brothers had returned to the hotel the day after, only to see the place in disarray and the body of Gabriel lifeless where the meeting room was; his wings burned out, the evidence seared into the very ground. Dean could still remember the sight that laid before them when they entered, and the darkness had done little to diminish it. Gabriel had been killed, but somehow—

The archangel rolled his eyes and settled himself more comfortably on his armchair, reaching out to grab a bar of chocolate from the plate of sweets he snapped up. “Would you stop gaping at me already? I’m starting to feel kinda uncomfortable.”

“You’re dead,” was all that Dean could say, his voice flat. “You _were_ dead. This is—” The elder Winchester let out a frustrated growl, hands reaching up to tug at his hair. “Jesus Christ, do any of you _stay_ dead?”

Gabriel only sent Dean a very flat look in response. “Speak for yourself, Dean-o.”

Dean, of course, deflated instantly since Gabriel did bring up a very good point; between the three of them, Dean was the one who had died the most (no thanks to the archangel, of course).

Sam decided to cut in before the situation got any worse—although from the expression on his face, the younger Winchester wasn’t at all thrilled to know that the (relatively self-proclaimed) Trickster was still alive. “We checked, Gabriel. We saw your body—”

“—but not my Grace,” the archangel interrupted him, wagging a finger with the hand that wasn’t occupied with the chocolate bar. “Although relatively speaking, I did cut it rather close.”

“So, what—” Dean started, lowering his hands to glare at Gabriel. “—you mojo’d yourself into this place, or something?”

The shift that question caused was instant; the bright look on Gabriel’s face changed into something much darker and mocking for a moment, a look that was close to the expressions he wore back in that warehouse in Ohio. This wasn’t the look of the Trickster—this was the look of the angel hidden behind the Trickster persona he wore, the angel who was tired of everything he saw and had just wanted everything to end.

The moment soon passed and the look vanished as quickly as it appeared, replaced with what Dean recognized as a carefully crafted mask as the archangel shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. One moment I was pretty sure I was going to die, and the next thing I know I woke up in this apartment all alone.” There was a brief pause as Gabriel inclined his head, thinking a little before adding. “Well, that and my powers were just about gone. Took me a good year to recover from the worst of it, but I’m still not at full capacity—I doubt I’ll ever be, as long as I’m here.”

Dean frowned, but Sam gave Gabriel a look that was not quite a bitchface as he put together the newly acquired information in his head. “Then why don’t you go back?”

Gabriel shrugged again, finishing up the last of his chocolate bar. “Don’t see a reason to. You guys stopped the Apocalypse; my work’s done.” 

“How do you know that?” the elder Winchester asked.

The archangel gave him a very pointed look in response. “You two are all the proof I need.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak, but Sam once again cut in before Dean could say anything that would work against them. “Why don’t you return? I mean, if you’re there, I think Raphael would listen to you and Cas would have an easier time with the war.”

Gabriel, who had been reaching out for another piece of candy, stopped and froze entirely at the words that left Sam’s mouth. He looked up, face set in an expression of pure disbelief as he narrowed his eyes and looked between the two brothers before asking cautiously. “A war?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Civil war in Heaven.”

“Cas is up there fighting, and you’re just here eating your candy!” Dean added with a snap, quite unable to stop himself. All this time Cas was struggling, and Gabriel was just _here_ doing his stupid Trickster things. What the hell was up with the stupid archangel? Weren’t he and Cas _brothers_?

Gabriel cast his gaze down to the ground, dropping his hand back on the armrest. His voice was quiet as he replied. “I didn’t know.”

Sam blinked, frowning. “You didn’t know?”

“I didn’t,” Gabriel repeated himself with a sigh, rubbing his temples as he said that. “I can’t hear the Host here; you know as well as I do why that’s the case.”

Sam frowned even more and shook his head. “No, actually.”

“All we know is that Cas can’t hear us,” Dean added, now looking at Gabriel rather intently. What was the archangel trying to say here? If Gabriel—an archangel—couldn’t hear the Host, then—

Gabriel sighed once again, lowering his hands. “Let me just put this in the simplest way; it’s like trying to get Vonnegut in China. I’m completely cut off from the Host, because the Host doesn’t exist here.”

“And that means…?” Sam piped in.

“That means that as far as I’m concerned, I’m the only angel—and possibly the only supernatural being—to exist in this world.” Gabriel reached out for another bit of candy, busying himself with unwrapping it as he continued. “I’m using myself to sustain myself, because no Host means no Grace, and no Host also means no angels, which in turn mean no demons, and no demons means no things that go bump in the night.” He tossed the wrapper away and popped the sweet into his mouth, chewing it as he returned his gaze to the brothers. “Which I might add, is pretty awesome because that means there’s no competition whatsoever. I win via forfeit.”

Dean turned to his brother. “Nice to know that at least one of us is enjoying this,” he muttered under his breath.

“I heard that, Dean-o.”

Dean only rolled his eyes in return before turning back to Gabriel. “So if you’re doing that whole self-sustaining thing, I guess that means you’re planning to stay here?”

“Stay?” Gabriel echoed, arching an eyebrow as he waved a hand at his surroundings. “That’s what I’ve been doing, isn’t it? Don’t see why I should change my plans.”

“You could help Cas end the war,” Sam spoke, attempting to be diplomatic—or as diplomatic as one could ever be to a being like Gabriel anyway. It did seem to work, at least judging from the thoughtful look that crossed his features. 

“Mmmmaybe,” he went after a pause, although the disinterest was obvious. “Raph’s not really much of the leading type. But—" the archangel added, continuing before either of the Winchesters could speak. “—Castiel’s position ain’t good either. He’s only just a Power—Dominion, if I want to be generous enough. That’s still nothing compared to an archangel. Not a lot of angels can really side with somebody like Castiel—an angel who _rebelled for humanity_ , mind. That’s like the worst thing any angel could do.”

“But he stopped—” Dean started, only to be cut in by Gabriel.

“Stopped the Apocalypse, yes,” Gabriel went, picking up another piece of candy and continuing to speak while undoing the wrapper. “And obviously Dad favours him or something, because he got revived by Him before.”

“Twice,” the elder Winchester added, causing Gabriel to give the older human a look for a moment.

“…Twice,” he echoed after said moment passed, dropping the wrapper to pop the sweet into his mouth and looking towards Sam. “No angel has ever been revived _twice_ , after all. Castiel’s kinda set a precedent on that bit.”

Dean really wished he could just throw the plate of candy right at Gabriel’s face there and then, but he was pretty certain that the stupid archangel with his stupid sweet-tooth would like it anyway. “Then what? You’re going to let Cas die a third time because he’s doing what’s right? Raphael’s trying to kick-start the Apocalypse again, and you don’t want that either.”

“And I _died_ for that,” Gabriel retorted, voice louder and higher now. “I _died_ helping you two, and I am done. I don’t want to fight my family again, Winchester.”

“You son of a—” Dean started, but his brother interrupted yet another time—Dean didn’t like it, but he supposed he should be grateful for it, at least. Getting angry really wasn’t an option now, not with the situation they were in. (And maybe in a way Gabriel was right about what he had said, but Dean wasn’t going to let the archangel have the privilege of knowing that. The asshole had enough to gloat about as it was.)

Sam shifted to lean closer across the table, setting an even gaze upon Gabriel as he spoke. “It’s your choice that you don’t want to help with the war, Gabriel, but we need your help all the same. We got sent here by Balthazar, and we want to return. Can you help us with that, at least?”

The archangel looked at the brothers, eyes narrowing again. “Balthazar?”

“One of Cas’ friends,” Dean supplied with a grunt.

“Groomed hair, bit of stubble, hates Titanic with a passion?”

The Winchesters only raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other.

“Nevermind,” Gabriel waved it off, returning back to the topic at hand. “I heard he was dead.”

“Well, you heard wrong,” Dean returned, breathing out loudly through his nose in a bid to keep his voice even (which failed since his voice was now rising higher and louder with each word), “Because he’s still alive and kicking and he just sent Sammy and me through a friggin’ window into this crap world.”

Gabriel could only snort. “You got the ‘crap world’ part right, at least. Look, boys—” he started again, waving a hand to send off the plate of candy to who-knows-where before getting up on his feet. “I can’t guarantee that I’ll succeed, but if you want to go back to your post-Apocalyptic world then _fine_ , I’d be happy to send you back. J-squared’s more entertaining anyway, even if both of them are prudes and need the sticks up their asses to be removed.”

Sam quickly stood up, clearly quite pleased that they had managed to find a way back. “Then, we can go now and—”

“Not now,” the archangel cut in, turning around to face Sam with a stern look and one raised finger. “The studio’s closed, and if the studio’s where you came from then it’s where you need to go through to return back from where Balthazar sent you over.” He paused, thinking for a moment again. “Either of you two remember what Balthazar did?”

“I do,” Dean spoke up.

Gabriel nodded in return to that. “Alright. Show me that in the morning, and I’ll see what I’ll need to do to reverse it.” That said, he turned back around and made his way out of the living room. “With that said, I’m going to get my sleep. Night, boys. Make yourselves comfortable on the couch.”

“Uh—” Sam started, but the door slammed shut before he could say anything. “—night.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean muttered under his breath.

  



	3. second act

**II: second act—no more dreaming of the dead.**

_It hurt, it had hurt a lot, and it still hurt.  
It hurt, having your Grace pierced and shattered into a million fading fragments.  
He recalled the moment it happened, the instant when the blade slipped through his ribs and struck right where it hurt most.  
He remembers the look that Lucifer gave him, the momentary slip of the mask that crossed his face before his Grace burned out.  
He wonders if the devil feels regret as he slips and falls to the ground, vision growing dark._

Gabriel wondered if it was coincidence or fate that he so happened to drop by the studio when he felt it happen. He couldn’t _not_ feel it, not when he was the only supernatural being in this world—he had checked twice to make sure of that fact. A world that had no supernatural beings whatsoever besides himself; a blessing or a curse, the archangel really wasn’t sure what to make of it. Sure, he was glad that he could live here without any worries about being hunted, but on the other hand—

A world like this, so unused to the supernatural—when Balthazar had cast his spell and sent the Winchesters to this world, Gabriel had felt it. It hit him like a speeding truck, the sudden disturbance across the plane. Dimensional spells were always rather intrusive (which made sense, considering the fact that one was meddling with the very fabric of reality), but the feeling had been so much stronger, so much more intense—this was a world that was never used to the supernatural, and without the supernatural happening on a frequent basis the fabric of this reality was startlingly weak, which meant that the spell had more impact than it should have.

So yes, he had felt the disturbance, and the sudden surge of wrongness that echoed across the plane was so strong and violent that it felt like he was being run over by a speeding truck. Of course, he was curious—hard not to be, when this was the first supernatural thing that happened since the time that you randomly woke up to find yourself in a body that was and wasn’t yours at the same time. Just as he was Richard Speight Jr, he was also Gabriel the Archangel and Loki the Trickster. It was a bit weird at first, but Gabriel quickly got used to it; it wasn’t that hard becoming the man the rest of the world thought he was anyway, and he even enjoyed some of it. It was a good life, one that required no hiding and no lying at every corner of the way. No angel or demon or pagan god would ever find him here, which made everything so much sweeter.

But now.

Now, the Winchesters were here with news he wished he never heard. But he did hear it and now said news was gnawing at his conscience as he turned around on his bed, trying to catch some sleep. Gabriel liked to tell himself that he _wasn’t_ concerned, but he knew that he was—even back when he had been in Heaven, Castiel had always been a curious thing. The little guy had been under his garrison, after all. A garrison that he left behind when he fled and hid as the Trickster, a garrison that would later break apart further because of Anna, who took charge and then later Fell, before Uriel turned against his brothers and sister for Lucifer. And now Balthazar had left too, leaving Castiel alone to try and hold everything together…

Gabriel sighed, feeling a frown forming on his face as he tried and failed to banish the thoughts and images from his head. Castiel had always been the smartest and brightest of the lot, full of curiosity and hope and well-wishes for the future. But at the same time he was young, young and naïve and far too innocent, almost like a child—which did make some sort of sense, he supposed, considering that Castiel was pretty much the last angel that popped into existence before the big guy went AWOL.

Another sigh escaped him as the archangel turned to the other side on his bed, his mind flooded with memories of the time spent in heaven with his garrison. Balthazar learning from him, his ever quick-witted protégé; Anna and her fierce determination, the single-minded stubbornness that Gabriel used to tease her about; Uriel with his strength and might, the once-dependable ally—and then Castiel, the tactician, the strategist, sharp and smart and even until now so painfully naïve, so trusting.

But at the same time, it was that trust that made him rebel against Heaven, rebel against the Host to aid Dean and put an end to the end itself. It was that very trust that was making him fight a losing battle, pitting himself against the most fearsome wrath of Heaven—a wrath that had ended him once before and would do so again in a heartbeat.

It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought.

There was already that part of him that was telling him to go back to where Castiel was and help the little guy, help him keep Heaven in check and make sure that nothing like the last few years happened again. And Gabriel wanted to, he really did, but memories of Lucifer and the Elysian Fields hotel kept flashing across his mind, making the archangel groan and press his face to the side of his pillow. He didn’t want to go through that again— _couldn’t_. Not again, not like that. Once was more than enough, and he didn’t want to put himself in danger of an encore performance. He didn’t belong there anyway, not anymore. Lucifer had killed him in that world, and there was no reason for him to be there again. This world was where he lived now, as shitty as it was sometimes.

A shitty world where Sam and Dean weren’t Sam and Dean but Jared and Jensen—two guys who _really_ needed to get wasted, in his most professional opinion; the only comfort he ever found was in Misha, and even that was debatable. It wasn’t a good world, not really, but it had been quiet and peaceful, and Gabriel did find it comforting, being able to live without worry of anything hunting him here when he was the only supernatural being. Which did make him the best and the most powerful, also placed him at the top with nobody else alongside him.

He didn’t want to admit it, but it was lonely, being here. He was away from his home, his world, everything that he knew and had been so intimately familiar with, staying in this place that wasn’t even all that great. He had just been taking each day as it was, drifting through without thinking about just why or how he was here—he didn’t want to bring himself to care. He was here and he wasn’t dead, and Gabriel had been content to keep it that way and maintain the status quo.

Now with the Winchesters showing up and telling him about what happened, keeping said status quo now seemed to be more and more impossible. The Apocalypse was a big thing—big in the sense that it wasn’t just limited to that world, it was something that would affect _all_ worlds. The impact of a world being destroyed was devastating; it had happened only a few times, all back before humans existed and time wasn’t even a concept that existed yet. Even then the impact had sent Gabriel reeling… he didn’t want to think how it would be now, with things as they were.

 _It’d be pretty bad of me to let Cas die like this,_ Gabriel sighed to himself, turning to face the ceiling that was shadowed by his curtains. _I guess I can go there and stick around for a bit. It’s not like I’m doing much in this world anyway._ And hey, once he was done he could always return here and pretend that none of it ever happened. As far as Gabriel was concerned, it was a pretty good plan—he could get his small dose of adventure, and he’d be doing something of a good deed. It was a win-win situation for all. Even as he thought that however, there was a small part of him that was convinced otherwise. 

The part of him that got him killed.

Gabriel wondered if he could get it to shut up.

It wasn’t too much of a surprise to see the Bozo brothers already up when he got up himself, although he couldn’t help but huff a little at the impatience that Dean was letting out once he had shown Gabriel the spell that Balthazar had performed on them (which Gabriel couldn’t help but be a little impressed by—he didn’t know his protégé had the ability to whip up something like _that_ ). Even without feeling it, the impatience was only all too obvious from the tone of his voice as Dean snapped at him. “When are we going to leave, Gabriel?”

“As soon as Clif arrives.” He had called the driver earlier—much to the man's confusion seeing as it was supposed to be either of the J's who should do the calling—so it would still be a bit more before their car arrived. “Just be patient, will you? I can’t go Air Angel.”

Dean glared at the archangel a while more, but eventually did deflate and sat back down in his seat. Sam sighed and continued to eat the toast Gabriel had so nicely snapped into existence for them. (“You can snap things up, but not take us there?” “Transportation uses up more energy that you can imagine, Sammy. Besides, I can only snap up little things like these.”)

Just as promised, the car arrived as soon as the brothers were done with their food, and Gabriel snapped the plates away before taking the lead in heading to the car. He shooed the two into the back and rode shotgun himself (much to Dean’s displeasure once more, but he took some indulgence in that fact).

“Must have been one heck of a night last night,” the driver noted neutrally, sunglasses hiding the expression that crossed his face.

Gabriel grinned. “You should join us one of these days, Clif. It’s _fun_.”

“No thanks, Richard,” Clif replied as he started up the car and drove them to the studio without another word. Gabriel didn’t live too far from the place, so it only took about thirty minutes to get there. The archangel tried not to think about how everything was going to change during the ride, and quickly snapped himself out of his thoughts as the car pulled up at the entrance, signalling that they had arrived.

“Pick us up at five,” Gabriel went before Clif could speak, getting out of the car along with the Winchesters and giving the driver a wave as he drove off to park the car and do his thing… whatever Clif did at the studio, anyway. Gabriel really didn’t know much aside from the fact that he worked as J-squared’s bodyguard-cum-driver. Talk about multiple positions.

Once Clif and the car had vanished around the corner the archangel turned back to the brothers, clapping his hands once and rubbing his palms against each other. “Alrighty, let’s get cracking as much as we can before show time starts.”

“…Show time?” the look on Dean’s face was next to incredulous as he said that, and Gabriel couldn’t help but grin a little. What, did the Winchesters think this was going to be a five-second affair? Pffft. (Actually, it pretty much was once he snapped up the ingredients, but the brothers didn’t need to know that—he wanted to see how they would be on camera anyway. TV Land didn’t count.)

“Yep,” he replied, wagging a finger. “Filming starts in about ten minutes and lasts for about three hours, which is just about enough time for me to get the correct ingredients and get the spell ready. Once recess starts I can work on sending you guys back and we can all pretend none of this ever happened.”

 _Along with myself,_ a part of him added mentally, but Gabriel expertly shut that part of him up. Nothing was certain yet.

The brothers exchanged looks with each other once more, the action making Gabriel raise an eyebrow and then two when Sam turned to look at the archangel and cautiously spoke up. “We appreciate that, but we’re not quite sure what will happen once we’re on the other side. I mean, we have the keys to the hiding place of the weapons that Balthazar stole from Heaven.”

Trying to lure him in now, were they? That was an utterly pathetic attempt if Gabriel had ever seen one—Ganesh would have done so much better, and that elephant was hardly a master of subtlety. The archangel let out a loud hiss of breath, wondering if stopping the Apocalypse made the brothers dumber or something; it sure seemed like that was the case to him. “I’m sure Cas and Balthazar will get to you once you guys return.”

“Along with Raphael,” Dean pointed out darkly, glaring daggers.

“—who they’re prepared for, I’m sure,” Gabriel returned, even though his mind was telling him something else entirely. This was an _archangel_ they were going up against; how certain could he be that they could even handle whatever that Raphael had in store for them? To be completely honest, dying would probably be the best case scenario for them. Maybe.

 _Go help them,_ the sensible, righteous part of him was saying, but the archangel shut it once more. He did not need to put himself in danger of getting himself killed _again_ , thank you very much. Even for an angel, dying did happen to be a very big deal—sure he managed to survive the last time (not that he knew how, but Gabriel wasn’t going to question things that shouldn’t be questioned), but there was no way of telling what could happen the next time. Better to be safe than sorry, and all that jazz.

One of the stagehands from the set was shouting at Dean and Sam to come on over to get ready for the filming, which was Gabriel’s cue to start cracking. Going up to the brothers, he pointed them towards said stagehand before speaking up. “Both of you go to that nice chap over there and he’ll bring you to the places you need to be. Get your script, don’t ask questions and do your part. If things go well enough, filming might end earlier which means you guys can go home sooner.” Not that he expected it to, really—the director would most likely maximize all the available time anyway. Gabriel figured it was best to let the boys have a little hope as he shoved them lightly towards the stagehand, moving off after that to start snapping up the needed ingredients.

The boys were so going to hate him for this later, but hey—it had been a while, and Gabriel needed his entertainment. Being the outcast in this world would only let him do so much, and he wanted to have his _fun_.

(And hey, he didn’t even need to lift a finger this time round. Figuratively speaking, of course.)

If Gabriel had thought TV Land was the best thing he had ever done, then he was finding himself corrected now. _This_ was the best thing he had ever done, and by the third take he was already struggling with the effort to not burst out in laughter because _holy shit_ , these boys were so bad that no words could describe just how bad this really was. Hell, they could give _Twilight_ a run for their money if this ever came to air. Even Misha with his usual brand of douchebag-ness and desire to troll was looking far too unamused as he put on his Castiel lineface (of which he could see the Misha-brand of unamusement bleeding through now) and said his line for what seemed to be like the millionth (actually the eighth) time. 

“Balthazar is no hero—” he started, and Gabriel had to try to not snort because _yeah_ , Balthazar really was no hero. “But he knows Raphael will never take him back.”

Dean started to move to his mark now, and the way he _moved_ was more than enough to start sending Gabriel into hysterics—although that didn’t happen, since Gabriel did a very impressive job of not bursting out into laughter even as Dean said his line (“Dean, grimly. And yet, somehow you got no problem with it.”) in the worst false voice ever, which made poor Bob Singer snap out a “Cut!” in pure distress.

The archangel just managed to straighten himself as the bell rung, looking at Misha as the actor looked back at him and mouthed a very appropriate ‘What the hell?’ towards him.

Gabriel only grinned and mouthed back a ‘Very busy night’ in response and tried not to laugh too hard at the wide eyes he received for that.

“If there’s a key then there has to be a lock. And when we find the lock we can get the weapons, and then we can have the weapons. And the lock. We’ll still have the lock, I imagine, because we’ve opened it, and of course, the initial key—”

Gabriel was already on the floor laughing his guts out like never before by the time Bob cried out the thirtieth “Cut!” in two hours, easily ignoring the bewildered looks that the rest of the crew were sending him as he attempted to recover.

 _“What is happening?!”_ came the voice of Bob while Gabriel started to get back on his feet.

“An atrocity is happening,” Serge replied.

“Oh yeah, a right atrocity,” the archangel added with a grin, tears still at the corners of his eyes. “I’ve never been more amused in my life, and that’s saying something.”

Once the bell sounded and Bob could do nothing else but bash his head against the wall and contact Sera in hopes of salvaging their eventual downfall, Gabriel went over to where the brothers were, grinning as he saw Dean making a gesture to his brother that could only be interpreted as “Gun. Mouth. Now.”

Yep, pure gold, right here. The archangel laughed as he stepped forward, waving at Misha who was currently furiously tweeting (‘IMHO, J and J plus Rich had a late one last night.’) before turning back to the boys. “Having fun so far?”

“Fuck you,” Dean instantly growled out in return.

Yeah, he couldn’t regret this.

“How much longer do we have to do this?” Sam added and geez, weren’t they both all sunshine and rainbows.

“You’ve given me enough blackmail material for ten lifetimes, boys,” Gabriel started, grinning even more at the way Misha snapped his head up to stare at him before starting to furiously tweet yet again. (He could hear it now: ‘Rich totally conned J-squared into something. ROFTLMAO.’ Priceless.) Pointedly ignoring the combined power of the brothers’ glares, Gabriel held his hands up in a sign of surrender. “Alright, alright, no need to get all angry at me, kids. I’m done. Just gotta wait until the guys are out and then I can work on sending you two back. But before that—”

“What _now?_ ” Dean went with a snarl, glaring daggers at Gabriel. 

“Now, Dean-o, is break time, which means you boys gotta clear out this place too. We’ll be back here in thirty.” Gabriel grinned at them again, turning around with a wave as he made his way off the set. “See you in a bit, boys.”

It was far more amusing than it should, really, seeing the utter confusion that was now running rampant across the crew as they all puzzled over Sam and Dean’s—or rather, Jared and Jensen’s—abrupt change overnight. Of course, none of them would ever be able to figure out the exact truth, as startlingly close as their script was to what was happening now. It was kind of funny, really, how their show was all about the supernatural, yet not even one supernatural idea crossed their minds to explain this mess. Not that Gabriel could blame them; this place (world) had been pretty supernatural-free until he came along.

 _And I’m still the exception to the rule,_ the archangel thought to himself as he waved at a couple of passing stagehands and, satisfied with examining the chaos running around the place, started to make his way to where he kept the bowl he had prepared the mixture in. It was almost the very same mixture that Balthazar had thrown together to send the two here, except with a few differences; differences that were needed since unlike Balthazar, he had no connection to the Host and thus needed a few more potent things to make the spell work. If he had to be honest, Gabriel wasn’t too sure if this was going to work, but he had enough confidence in his abilities. For all the years spent hiding out on Earth and being the Trickster (well not _the_ Trickster, but it was close enough), he was still an angel first and foremost.

 _An archangel,_ Gabriel reminded himself when he grabbed the disposable bowl sitting almost innocently at the buffet table. Getting the materials hadn’t posed too much of a problem, although he was never going to mix things in the toilet again. At least the stagehand that walked in on him when he was taking out the blood seemed to be a lot happier after getting a hastily signed autograph and fifty dollars; one of the perks of being famous… one way or another.

With the bowl secure in his hands, Gabriel started to make his way back to the set, where Sam and Dean were most likely waiting for him, but just as he was passing the sewer set, the all-too familiar sounds of a commotion reached his ears along with the shouts of the two brothers. Trouble already and it hadn’t even been time yet—couldn’t they just stay still for thirty minutes? The archangel swore under his breath as he made his way towards where all the noise was coming from and popped in from the other end where the action was going on.

Dean was too occupied with the stagehands restraining him, but Sam (the giant that he was and thus being tall enough) caught sight of Gabriel at the other end and shouted across the set. “He’s got the key!”

 _What?_ Gabriel only had a second to process the information before his mind registered the man—no, not man, _angel_ —running down the set and soon past him. Without thinking the archangel instantly was on the move, throwing up the bowl in the air before he went in for a tackle, kicking the guy right in his gut to send him sprawling down onto the ground. The key flew out from the other’s grip from the force of the blow, but the archangel quickly snapped it to his side along with the bowl he had thrown up earlier, its contents still safe and secure. 

Cling wrap was a wonderful invention.

The angel was still curled up in pain from the strength that Gabriel had thrown into his kick, and the archangel looked down impassively as Sam and Dean rushed forward, stagehands soon following behind as they all stared at the half-conscious figure on the ground.

“Richard—” Bob started, but Gabriel already held up one hand to hush the director and turned around to look at him.

“It’s Gabriel, Bob,” he started, smirking a little at the splutter that came with those words before he continued. “Yes, _the_ Gabriel you guys so nicely killed off just as I was finally getting a fan club. Now if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate it if you guys can take this chap on the ground away so that I can have a sortie with J-squared to see how we should convince you all that this is one bad and somehow still hilarious joke.”

There was a terse silence that followed after those lines, but then Gabriel went “ _Now_ ” in his best commanding voice and that was enough to get everybody except Sam and Dean scrambling away, some of them taking the angel away with them as they left.

Both Sam and Dean stared at Gabriel as the archangel turned back to them. “Well, now that I’ve so nicely destroyed both my reputation and disguise, I think it’s time for us to return. Wouldn’t you agree?”

The Winchesters looked at each other at that, sending equally confused looks—and Sam was the one who spoke up after a pause, glancing back at Gabriel and nodding. “Uh, yeah. Sounds great.”

With the crew occupied by the random angel that had somehow managed to come to this world (Gabriel had a feeling that he should know said angel’s name but for some reason he couldn’t remember properly), Gabriel quickly took the chance to get things going before more damage could be done, dragging both Sam and Dean to the now-cleared studio.

“Let’s make this quick,” Gabriel went, speaking as he busied himself with removing the cling wrap from the top of the bowl so that he could reach into it and scoop out a generous amount of blood on his index and middle finger, painting the symbol onto the glass panel. “Once I’m done you guys jump through like before, and you two should be back before anybody can say ‘Qudditch’.”

“‘Should’ be back?” Dean questioned instantly, and Gabriel cursed himself for his choice of words. Smooth work there, self.

The archangel clenched his jaw, scowling as he continued to work on his task. “Should, alright? I can’t use the exact spell that Balthazar did—it’s too weak to work in this world, seeing as I’m only one angel and Balthazar still had a connection to the Host when he did this to you guys.” He hated that he had to admit this, admit that he was weak even though he was the strongest in this world—but it was a fact that compared to back _there_ he was about as strong as a baby; heck, even Castiel could probably overpower him at this moment. It was tempting, just a bit, to go with the Winchesters back to where he was supposed to be—but no, he couldn’t; it’d most likely do more harm than good no matter how he thought about it.

Gabriel shook his head, dislodging the unhappy thoughts in his head as he finished up the symbol and tossed the bowl away, stepping back. “Alright, there. Just jump through and go straight home and get Cas to pick you up or something.”

Dean muttered an ‘about freaking time’ under his breath and started to make his way to the window, but Sam stood in his place and turned his head over to look at Gabriel, biting his lip. “…you sure you don’t want to come with us, Gabriel?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” he hissed back, not really wanting to discuss this with _Sam Winchester_ of all people; it wasn’t really going to end well if he did. “Just go before—”

“You two are not going to escape from me so easily!”

“—that.” Well, not that it mattered anymore; the random angel had somehow returned to consciousness, wriggled his way out from the people who had been holding him and was quickly making his way to Sam and Dean, and Gabriel knew there wasn’t going to be a choice in the matter. Not when the rest of the crew was running up from behind, anyway. Besides, he really _didn’t_ want to deal with the backlash and crap that this was going to cause. Taking in a deep breath Gabriel turned to the brothers, shouting at them to go as he lunged out and tackled the angel to the ground, trying to keep him away and prevent him from following the two humans.

“Go away, human!” the angel snapped back, Grace blazing in his eyes and—oh yeah, now he remembered who this guy was.

“Maybe next time, Virgil,” he returned with a not-too kind smile, raising one fist. “Nighty-night now. Say hello to Raph for me later.”

Virgil’s eyes widened at the mention of his name, as well as the casual way the archangel was talking about his boss (not that Virgil would ever know what hit him—literally), too stunned to defend himself as Gabriel swung down his fist with every intention of knocking the angel out—but then found his wrist being held back by an iron grip belonging to Bob Singer himself. “Let go, Richard!”

“I already told you, its—” Gabriel started, breaking off with a yelp when Virgil took the chance while he was distracted to shove the archangel off him and run for the window where Sam and Dean were just starting to leap through. With no time to waste Gabriel did a small snap to get himself out of the entanglement he had been stuck into with Bob, running after the angel hit man and leaping right after him with a shout. “Oh no you don’t!” he cried out as he tried to reach out with his arm, attempting to grab Virgil by his ankle and pull him back—

But then there was a crash that resounded in his ears and the next thing he knew, the archangel found himself sprawled over asphalt and had the taste of dirt in his mouth, something Gabriel tried to spit out as he pushed himself back up off the ground, eyes darting about as he looked at his surroundings. Cars, trees, dirt, night sky—yeah, he wasn’t in the studio anymore.

Dean and Sam were getting up beside him, both brothers equally confused as they looked around, trying to place where they were. Gabriel turned around to look behind him—Virgil wasn’t there. Did he not manage to get through the window?

The duo seemed to have noticed too since Dean was now frowning at the spot Gabriel was staring. Dean had just about to start talking (“Where’s—”) before he suddenly stopped with his eyes wide, hands flying to his throat as he gasped for air. Sam was on his brother in an instant, crying out his sibling’s name in worry and concern for a few seconds before there was that tell-tale rustle of wings which Gabriel knew all too well who it belonged to, because this guy was his brother.

“If you want him to live,” Raphael started as the elder archangel walked in the female vessel he was now possessing, black eyes staring flatly at Sam alone. “Then pass me the keys.” Beside him/her was Virgil, looking rather smug as the angel hit man sneered at the brothers and then at Gabriel too. Gabriel himself resisted the urge to respond in kind, choosing to stare back coolly at Raphael as s/he turned to lay his/her gaze on him, frowning. 

Virgil started to step forward, but Raphael raised an arm to stop the hit man from moving and stared at Gabriel for a while more before turning away. “There is no need to pick on strangers, Virgil. The Winchesters are who we should be dealing with.”

Gabriel froze at that along with the Winchesters, and he couldn’t ignore the stunned look that Sam was giving him or the fact that he was just as lost himself. Raphael… couldn’t recognize him? Seriously? What was going on here? It hardly seemed like the other archangel was kidding—Raphael had regarded him with all the curiosity of a human looking down at an ant. Gabriel knew that look well enough to know that Raphael really didn’t know him at all and wasn’t joking. The question was why.

What the heck is going on here? Gabriel thought to himself as he stared between Raphael and the brothers now, trying to figure out the sudden mystery that had popped up. Why couldn’t Raphael recognize him? Even if he was in another body, his Grace should be something that the other archangel would know. To just brush him aside like this, not knowing it at all… it did hurt. Raphael was still his brother, even if he was a dick too. He still had been family, and now his last brother had just cast him aside. It hurt more than Gabriel could make himself admit, the pain lurching in his gut, making him stay frozen to the spot even as Raphael advanced towards the two humans.

“Give me the key, Sam Winchester, and I will spare your brother’s pathetic life.” Raphael’s voice was a growl now, impatience dripping from the elder archangel’s tone as Sam stayed in his place, still trying to stop Dean from choking himself to death. “ _Now._ ”

The younger Winchester gritted his teeth as he glared at Raphael, obviously not too happy with this. He glanced over to Gabriel and the archangel nodded, and then Sam tossed the keys over towards Raphael who caught them easily in the vessel’s hand.

“—and that, my friend, will open you a locker at the Albany bus station,” went a new voice that belonged to none of them, and all heads turned towards the slim figure of Balthazar as he stepped out from the shadows, a smile playing across his lips. 

Virgil started to move again, but Raphael stopped him and turned to place his/her gaze evenly towards the other angel. “Really.”

“You see,” Balthazar started, the smile only growing bigger as he waved his hands idly. “I needed a modest decoy to make this entire act all the more convincing.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed as he slowly put two and two together, but Raphael didn’t seem to care for whatever Balthazar was saying, only growling at him. “Give me the weapons.”

Balthazar inclined his head at Raphael, putting on a false expression of sympathy when he replied. “Sorry, darling, but they’re gone.”

The glare from Raphael was instantly dangerous and demanding. “What?!” 

“I _said_ , too bloody late,” the angel drawled back in turn, eyes rolling. “You see, they were so well-hidden that I needed time to find them. So,” he gestured towards the brothers who were busy recovering now that Raphael had stopped trying to get Dean to strangle himself. “I volunteered these two marmosets for a game of fetch with Virgil.” That said, he turned towards Sam and Dean, bowing a little in a gesture of false gratitude. “You two were such an adequate stick. Thank you. Thank you, boys.”

The brothers were hardly appeased by that display, but none more so then Raphael who now had a stormy expression on his vessel’s face as s/he took a step closer towards Balthazar, thunder rumbling overhead. “You’ve made your last mistake,” the archangel hissed, a dangerous glare now fixed at the lesser angel.

Rather than being frightened, however, Balthazar merely shrugged, a smirk on his face as he replied almost sweetly. “Oh, I’ve got a few more tricks up my sleeve, honey.”

There was no pause from that comment—as soon as Balthazar had said that, there was the rustle of wings as another angel appeared, and Gabriel looked as Castiel stepped onto the playing field, back straight and his face set in a grim sort of determination that reminded him of Dean. His voice was low, even lower than usual as he took another step forward, facing Raphael without even so much as flinching as he spoke. “Step away from them, Raphael. I have the weapons now. Their power is with me.” And he saw it. _Father_ , he saw it; the shadow of magnificent, giant wings that jumped out as lightning flashed and thunder rumbled in retaliation. 

“Castiel.” Raphael’s tone was curt, but Gabriel could hear the wariness that had edged into the corner of the archangel’s voice.

Cas kept his gaze on Raphael, waiting for the Winchesters to fully recover and get back on their feet again before replying. “If you don’t want to die tonight, back off.”

“You insolent—” Virgil started, but Raphael cut him off quickly and gazed at Castiel, an almost-sneer crossing the female vessel’s features.

“You will regret this, Castiel,” was all that the archangel said, and in the next moment the two had vanished, the retreating roll of thunder being the only thing left of Raphael’s appearance there.

Balthazar rolled his shoulders in a small shrug once Raphael was gone, working a crick out of his neck as he tucked his hands into the pocket of his pants. He glanced around, noting the Winchesters, Castiel and of course, Gabriel who was still sitting on the ground and trying to properly digest everything that had transpired.

He snapped out of his reverie as Balthazar tilted his head, studying the archangel in curiosity. “And who just might you be now?”

Gabriel opened his mouth to respond before he even thought over his words. “A thousand years and you can’t remember your awesome teacher? You suck, Bal.”

The response only made Balthazar widen his eyes, surprise clear on his features as he looked over to Castiel, the other angel turning to regard Gabriel with a questioning gaze as well. The frown that crossed on Cas’ face didn’t seem that all comforting as the lesser angel tried out tentatively. “…Gabriel.”

“In the flesh, bro,” he answered, now pushing himself up to get back on his feet.

“Lucifer killed you.”

Gabriel slapped his hands against the back of his jeans, making a face. “Well, I managed to survive. Can we stop harping on that?”

“No, I don’t think Lucy killing you is the issue here,” Balthazar interjected, making a gesture with his hands. His face was serious now, his gaze steady on Gabriel while he talked. “You _died_ , Gabriel. You were literally unmade by your own sword. All of us felt it across the Host. There was no way you could have survived.”

“Well,” Gabriel started slowly now, because he did not like where this conversation was going and he had this rather bad feeling that he’d rather not prod into. “What can I say? I’m good at defying fate.”

Castiel’s frown deepened even more as the angel tilted his head, studying Gabriel with even more scrutiny than before. Gabriel wasn’t really sure what to feel about that as he looked to the Winchesters. “Uh, guys? A little help here?” Dean was the one who always was at the end of these kinds of looks, so he could do something about it, right? Right?

Sam only shrugged helplessly, but Dean broke the silence, looking over to Castiel and calling out to him. “Is there something wrong, Cas?”

“Yes,” Castiel replied, expression and voice solemn as he fixed his intense blue gaze on Gabriel even though his words were for Dean. Even then, Gabriel couldn’t help but feel his blood freeze at the next words that the angel said. “I can’t sense Gabriel at all.”


	4. third act

**III: third act—face to face with the sky.**

“Run that by me again?”

Cas stifled a sigh as he glanced at Gabriel again, the archangel now strangely quiet after he had heard the first round of explanations. It was pretty late into the night in South Dakota—Cas had brought them back to Bobby’s place once the whole hoo-haa with Raphael was done. Balthazar had unsurprisingly left them after asking Cas to ‘update him about Gabriel later’, vanishing in a rustle of wings and a displaced whoosh of air.

Sam looked between Cas and Gabriel, that constantly worried look on his face now as he turned to Dean. “Dean—”

The angel cut in from there, repeating the explanation he had just given the rest of them moments earlier. “The body he resides in now is not of this world; it’s from the world that you two came back from. This world doesn’t recognize it, so it’s blocking it out.”

“Like a firewall,” he heard his brother mutter, and Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes at how much of a computer geek Sam was. Kid brother really needed a life at times beyond that laptop of his (not that the laptop was to blame, since he kind of needed it for his supplements of bustyasianbeauties.com).

Cas nodded at Sam’s words (now that Sam had explained to him what a firewall was), turning back to Dean and continued on. “The world is blocking Gabriel’s body out as a separate entity, so it’s preventing him from connecting to the Host because of this separation. Usually this can be resolved easily—Grace can change the body to suit the world and connect back to the Host—but Gabriel used up the last of his Grace to bring you here. Until he re-establishes his connection to the Host, he won’t be able to recover it.”

“So,” Dean started, trying to make sense of all this mumbo-jumbo in his head. “Basically, Gabriel’s dry, but he lost his plug so he can’t just… stick it in and charge himself back up? Is that what you’re saying?”

“Very eloquent, Dean,” Sam replied with a roll of his eyes. “But yeah, that’s about the gist of the issue.”

“Alright, so we need to get his plug back,” Dean returned as he tried to ignore how odd those words sounded in his head. “How are we going to do that?”

Castiel glanced beside him to look at the still-silent and still-stoic archangel. He frowned, keeping his gaze on the smaller man as he replied. “I will need to give part of my Grace to him, enough for Gabriel to re-establish his connection to the Host.”

“Great,” Dean went, feeling the weight coming off his shoulders now. “You just do that, Gabriel gets his mojo back and we’ll all just hold hands and run towards the sunset.”

“It is not that easy,” Cas returned and Dean couldn’t help but let out an annoyed groan—of course it wasn’t going to be easy. When was anything ever ‘easy’ in his life these days? “The Grace that Gabriel needs is a rather substantial amount, one that I can’t give in one go as it will be dangerous to the body. I will need to give it to him in batches once every six hours for the next few days.”

Sam let out a loud breath through his nose. “And you’re certain about this, Cas?”

The angel nodded. “I am certain, Sam.”

“Alright,” Sam went, nodding to himself. “If Gabriel’s up for it, then we should start as soon as possible.”

“Of course I’m up for it,” the archangel finally spoke up, his voice coming out in a snap that only served to make Dean send a glare at the smaller man. “The sooner this trainwreck is over with, the better.”

An uncomfortable look crossed Sam’s face. “Look, Gabriel, we didn’t mean for you to—”

“I _know_ you guys didn’t mean to drag me back here,” Gabriel quickly cut in, turning his head around to look at both brothers with an expression that practically screamed ‘I don’t like this at all’. “Doesn’t change the fact that I’m still here though, so let’s just fix this as soon as possible, okay?”

“You don’t have to be so goddamned snappy about it,” Dean retorted, scowling. “We’re trying to help you now, alright?”

Gabriel said nothing to that, but Dean could see the look on the archangel’s face darkening in a way that couldn’t mean anything good. The elder Winchester rolled his eyes, deciding to keep his mouth shut, since Gabriel seemed to be so intent on being such a dick. So much for trying to be helpful.

Oblivious to the tension that was settling in the room, Castiel simply looked to Gabriel and spoke once the archangel was done snapping back at Dean. “If you wish so, brother, we can begin now.”

“Great.” Gabriel leapt out from his seat, hands tucked into the pocket of his pants. “Let’s get this over with.”

Cas nodded and turned back to the two humans, regarding them both. “I will attend to Gabriel now. We can talk later, if you wish.”

Dean knew what Cas was implying—the two of them had a good number of questions regarding what Cas had done, having them act as decoys like this without even so much as telling them—and it was hard to ignore the way his gut was churning as he looked at the angel and nodded. “Okay, Cas. Take as long as you need.”

Once Dean had given his consent, Castiel had transported them to one of the bedrooms upstairs. Gabriel didn’t need to be told at all as the archangel swiftly went to settle himself on the bed nearby; he rubbed his hands and let out a loud hiss of breath. “Okay, so how exactly are we going to do this?” The angel had only told them the gist of the whole thing—Gabriel knew for a fact that the real deal wasn’t as simple as Cas had put it to them. After all, he was a _non-entity_ in this world now, as far as the balance was concerned. Something like that wasn’t going to be so easy to fix and change.

“First, I’ll need to examine whatever it is that is inside you—whatever makes up the soul that allowed you to live in that world.” Castiel’s voice was curt and businesslike even as the angel was busy with removing his trench coat, followed by his suit jacket and he went on speaking while he rolled up his sleeves, getting ready. “Once I know exactly what is inside, I can be certain of how I should pass my Grace towards you, and how much you should be able to handle in one go.”

“So you’re basically going to stick your hand into me and find out what makes me tick,” the archangel returned, his voice flat because nothing about this sounded good to him now. There was a pause before he continued on. “Am I missing something here? Is this supposed to be revenge for TV land?”

Castiel (who was now on his knees and had a hand on Gabriel’s shoulder) only tilted his head, looking at the archangel in something that almost seemed like sympathy as he replied in a soft murmur. “I only wish to help, brother.”

“Sticking your hand into me isn’t really what I’d like to call help,” Gabriel couldn’t help but return curtly.

“I will try to make it as painless as possible.” And that was all that Cas said before the hand that was on Gabriel’s shoulder tightened, gripping him hard enough so that the archangel would stay in place as he started to sink his other hand through cloth and flesh and bone.

The smaller man instantly jerked at the sensation, biting the inside of his cheek forcibly, so that nothing escaped from his throat. His hands fisted into the bedsheets, trying anything to keep himself from crying out as Castiel pushed his hand deeper, going beyond the physical and dipping into the higher planes of reality. The younger angel grunted as his arm went almost impossibly deep through Gabriel’s stomach, his Grace reaching out to have a feel of what it was that exactly held the archangel together in a state like this. Gabriel himself trembled with the effort of staying silent, even as his face twisted into an expression of pain and sweat rolled down his face. One of his hands had unconsciously reached up to hold Castiel’s other wrist in an iron grip, fingers digging into skin.

Gabriel didn’t know how much time had passed since this started. It could have been a few seconds or minutes or hours—heck, it could even have been an eternity; all he could focus on was the outright invasion into his soul/spirit/whatever that Castiel was performing, the other angel’s Grace burning like fire. It hurt like hell, almost in the same way when Lucifer plunged his own sword into him and shattered his Grace. The memory of that moment always haunted his dreams, the pain echoing in a way that left him useless and empty, just like now. 

A pained whimper escaped him before Gabriel could hold it back, choking out from his throat almost forcefully and in the next instant the hand that had been on his shoulder was suddenly at the small of his back, pressing against him gently as he heard Castiel’s rumbling voice next to his ear. “Just a bit more, brother, I’m almost there.”

The archangel could only manage a small noise in acknowledgement, biting his tongue now to stop himself from making any more noises as Cas drew him closer, resting the other’s forehead against his shoulder and ignoring how that part of his dress shirt was swiftly being soaked through by sweat. Gabriel himself was clutching carelessly at the sides of Castiel’s shirt, almost tearing the fabric before his fingers finally slackened their grip when the angel withdrew. He pulled out his arm and Gabriel couldn’t help but let out a soft cry of relief when he felt the pain swiftly fading.

There was a moment of silence before Castiel moved, both hands holding the archangel’s shoulders to help him straighten up again, so that Gabriel could look at the angel’s eyes and vice versa. “Gabriel,” he started, voice almost hesitant.

Gabriel took a few seconds before he could respond, having needed to catch his breath first. “Just give me a moment.”

“Of course.” There was a quiet nod before Castiel let go, standing up after that and moving to claim back his layers of clothing. Gabriel closed his eyes, forcing himself to take in deep breaths and get himself steady again. When he opened his eyes, Cas was already back in his usual attire and looking as if he hadn’t just stuck a hand into an archangel’s body and caused him a world of pain. Or the fact that he had _comforted_ said archangel as well in a way that was… not in a way most angels would do.

He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

“Okay,” Gabriel began, now that he was relatively calm and didn’t feel like curling up into a ball of agony and pain. “Lay it on me, bro.”

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement before he started to speak. “Whoever brought you back changed you on the inside as well—you weren’t brought back whole, so something else was used to patch up the missing parts.”

Gabriel didn’t need to think too hard to figure out what the angel was saying. “The other me.”

“That is the most likely possibility,” the younger angel agreed with another nod. “The one who brought you back only took you in your true form, fused you with the soul of the… other you from the world you were in so as to fill in the gaps and placed you into that body to recover from the rest of the damage.” Castiel paused for a bit, a frown crossing his face then but went on speaking. “I had felt traces of some sort of power when I reached into you, but it dissipated as soon as I was close enough to attempt and make out its origin.” His tone was worried now, concerned. “I’m not sure why it was there, but I think it was keeping you together until I interfered.”

The archangel frowned too upon hearing those words, now starting to wonder himself. Someone with enough power to pull him back from non-existence and doing all of this to keep him alive… just who could it be? There really weren’t many on the list, and Gabriel doubted that any of them had reason to save him. Why would they, anyway? It wasn’t as if he had done anything that merited something like this.

“It is no longer of import, however,” Castiel spoke again, breaking Gabriel out from his train of thoughts. “You are stable enough now, and I should be able to start passing my Grace to you. It will take about three to four days—five if there are delays. Once you have enough you can reopen a connection to the Host and recover the rest of your energy with little time.”

“Good to know,” Gabriel returned, rubbing his hands once more. “Do we start now, or…?”

Unsurprisingly, Castiel shook his head. “You are in no state to receive my Grace after what I’ve just done. You need to rest.” He stepped back, turning towards the door. “We can begin once you’ve woken up.”

Gabriel made a face at that, but knew that what Castiel said had made sense, so he reluctantly nodded. “First thing, then.”

“Of course. Good night, Gabriel.” And without another word, Castiel was out of the room.

“Dean.”

Now alone in the kitchen, Dean looked up from the beer bottle he had been nursing. It had been about an hour since Cas had left with the archangel, and Sam was drained by the events of what had happened, so he had decided to retire for the night. Dean couldn’t blame his brother, not really; he was pretty damned tired too, but he couldn’t rest yet. At least not until he managed to get a few words with Cas. Gabriel being around now might have changed things a little, but the crux of the matter had not. Cas had just willingly made use of them without either of their consent, and Dean wasn’t happy about that. Not at all.

He wasn’t going to press him on that though, not yet. Dean placed the bottle on the table, clasping his hands as he sent a look towards the angel. “How’s Gabriel?”

Castiel inclined his head. “He is fine, all things considered. He is resting now.”

“Great.” Well, good to know that one of them was at least sort of alright—or at least, a measure of it. Even though considering the situation, Gabriel’s current position was probably the most fucked up. Not that it made anything easier for any of them. “Look, Cas—”

“The plan was Balthazar’s,” Cas cut in, answering even before Dean could get out the rest of his question; then again, it shouldn’t be that surprising. “I would have done the same thing.”

Dean clenched his jaw. “That’s not comforting, Cas.”

“Then just what should I say?” the angel instantly retorted, impatience laced in his tone as he glared at Dean, jaw set obstinately. “I have to win against Raphael, Dean. There’s no other choice. Once he wins, we will all lose everything. I’m trying to prevent that from happening.”

The words rang true in his head, they really did—and in a way, Dean could understand where Cas was coming from. But— “Yeah, we know. I know, Cas. Thing is, that’s about the only friggin’ thing you told us. How are we—how the hell am I supposed to understand when you only tell us the basics and leave everything else in the dark?”

“I—” Castiel started, pausing with equal abruptness as he clenched his jaw, bringing his gaze down to stare at the floor. “I apologize.”

“Apologies isn’t what I want, Cas,” Dean returned, although his expression softened. “Just… just tell us or something when shit like this happens. Don’t keep leaving us in the dark. It ain’t right.”

Castiel looked back up, face set back into the usual expression of neutrality that Dean was starting to find himself hating more and more these days. “There’s not much that I can say, Dean. You wouldn’t be able to understand a war like this.” His voice was tired and drained and maybe just on the edge of irritated, but that all only served to make the human scowl.

“It’s not a matter of if I understand what’s going on or not,” he replied, attempting to keep his voice even. “You’re fighting against Raphael, and you’ll need all the support you can get. You ain’t alone, Cas. We’re around to help; you just gotta ask.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cas replied, and that answer would have worked if it wasn’t for the fact that Dean knew the angel well enough by now to know that he was just bullshitting. Castiel had no intention of asking them, and don’t anybody say that Dean didn’t try.

Dean bit back an irritated sigh, running a hand through his hair. “So, what’s going to happen to Gabriel?” Since Cas probably didn’t want to continue on that topic anymore, he might as well steer it to something that was easier for both of them. He’d just try again next time when he had the chance to. 

The angel gave a small shrug. “He will need to rest and recover. I will be back in the morning to start injecting part of my Grace into him.”

“You mean you haven’t?” Why was Cas stuck for an hour then?

Castiel shook his head. “I had to examine his soul first. It proved to be a big strain on him.”

Dean made a face at the response, memories of Balthazar and the Staff of Moses coming to him. “Well, sticking your hand into somebody usually does that.”

“It was my whole arm,” Castiel corrected neutrally.

“Your whole arm,” Dean deadpanned, staring at the angel now. “ _Jesus,_ Cas.”

Cas shrugged once more. “It was necessary.”

“No wonder he needs to rest,” the human went, more to himself then to the angel. “Jesus Christ,” he repeated, because Gabriel had just taken _an arm_ into wherever the soul was and the kid had taken it badly enough when Cas did it. He didn’t want to think how Gabriel must have been when he was getting the short end of _that_ stick.

“The Son has nothing to do with this.”

Dean tried to ignore the urge of pounding his head against the wall that was better known as Castiel. “So, what are you going to do now?”

“I have the weapons,” Cas went in his matter-of-fact way, unblinking. “It will greatly increase the power of my side, and I should be able to start fighting back now.” There was a brief pause, and then Castiel dipped his head and added uncertainly. “Hopefully.”

Dean made a small gulp, steeling himself. “I told you earlier, Cas—just find us if you need help, okay? We’re here for you.”

Castiel didn’t say anything in return, only vanishing in a whisper of wings at Dean’s next blink and the man could only swear under his breath.

_He dreamed of flying, of darting in-between clouds and chasing after birds as laughter bubbled from within him for the first time in what seemed to be forever. The sky was bright, the sun warm; Heaven was in harmony and the Earth teemed with the strangest things that perked his interest. It had been paradise, comforting, home. His laugh echoed through the vast skies, rich and happy while the chorus of Heaven sang along with him, all of them connected through their minds and their Grace._

_Then the skies darkened, thunder rumbling ominously as lightning flashed, casting his vision into a sharply contrasting world of light and shadow. Below him the earth started to burn, brimming with flames that he would later come to learn as hellfire. The ground moaned as it split apart, the stench of sulphur burning in his nose as thunder and lightning gave way to the crash and flash of swords as angel turned against angel, fighting each other as the First War raged around him._

Stop it, _he wanted to say, but found his voice betraying him as nothing came out and he was forced to watch his beloved brothers turn against each other, striking at one another with nothing but the intent to kill._ Stop it!

 _Neither of them would stop however, both of them pushing on without pause as they fought for countless days and endless nights. It was the Champion of Heaven versus the dazzling light of the Morningstar, and where once their spars brought him and countless other angels in gathering to watch the beauty of their fight, now there was nothing beautiful in this at all. This was carnage and betrayal and heartbreak all rolled into one, as brother fought against brother under the command of their Father. Michael remained stoic as Lucifer snarled, and he didn’t even need to be nearby to hear the words that the Morningstar said._ You don’t have to do this, brother.

A brother who disobeys his Father is no brother of mine. I am a good son. _And with those words Michael struck Lucifer into the pit along with the other angels who had followed him, changing the whole world in that instant. Hell was formed and the Host wept for the loss of so many of their brothers and sisters, but none so much as he who had lost his entire family in that instant._

_As the Host both celebrated and mourned he stood by the edge of the world that separated land from sea, watching the waves silently and letting his mind drift. The tranquility soothed him in the way Heaven—home—once did, but not anymore._

Gabriel, _a voice murmured behind him, and the Messenger turned to stare in surprise at the devil who had come to him._

Brother— _he started, stopping when Lucifer raised a hand, flickering now-crimson eyes to look at him._

You always promised to be by my side, Gabriel, _the devil said, voice quiet even though the words stung Gabriel like nothing else._

 _Gabriel took a step back, hesitating._ Not like this, brother.

 _Lucifer stepped closer, eyes flaring with the power of Hell as his voice slipped lower._ You promised, Gabriel.

Not like this— _he repeated himself, freezing when the fallen archangel reached out to grab him by one of his wings, holding him in place not too gently as the devil leaned closer and hissed in betrayal._

You lied to me, Gabriel, _he spoke, and Gabriel trembled at the quiet fury that was behind that deceptively calm voice._ And I do not suffer liars gladly.

_Without warning there was a sharp pain right into his stomach, and Gabriel looked down to see his blade lodged into him. The world changed, red clouding his vision as he saw blood dripping from his body and Grace shattering under the thrust of his sword. He brought his head back up to look at Lucifer through the eyes of the half-burnt vessel he wore now, the Morningstar’s light shining within those eyes as Lucifer pulled out the sword from him, and Gabriel felt his Grace starting to burn and shrivel up. He let go just as Lucifer released him, falling down towards the ground as his vision started to fade, even as light shone everywhere with the power of his burning Grace, the world vanishing before his eyes before he could even hit the ground—_

 

—Gabriel gasped as he opened his eyes, his world refocusing to the half-peeled ceiling above him. The archangel felt his breaths slowly easing now that he wasn’t dreaming and Gabriel clenched his fingers, fisting the sheets that were in his grip as he swore under his breath.

“Damnit.”

After Cas left him last night, Dean spent a good hour drinking before he finally managed to sleep, which was the reason why he was the last one to enter the kitchen in the morning. Gabriel was already there, eating some scrambled eggs and leftover bacon a currently disgruntled-looking Bobby had managed to dig out from somewhere. Sam was focused on his laptop as usual, seemingly unblinking as he stared at the screen and mindlessly ate his rabbit food of a sandwich.

“You idjits need to stop with this habit of losing whatever help we get,” the older man groused when he saw Dean entering the kitchen, placing his breakfast on the table.

Dean made a face. “He ain’t helping, Bobby.” Where did he even get the idea in the first place?

Bobby sent back a skeptical look in response. “Then explain to me why we’ve got a dead archangel in my house.”

“ _Former_ dead archangel,” Gabriel corrected, looking up from his plate. “Emphasis on ‘former’, ‘dead’, and ‘archangel’.”

“It’s a long story, Bobby,” Sam spoke up, still not looking away from his laptop.

The man rolled his eyes. “Gabriel here already told me the gist of it before you two woke up,” he said as he shuffled off to put the pans and utensils into the sink. “Sounded like quite the adventure.”

Dean only bothered to answer the words with a snort before digging into his breakfast. ‘Quite the adventure’ was one hell of an understatement, really.

“I’ve returned.”

Dean just barely stopped himself from choking on his ham at the sudden rumble of voice coming from behind him, turning around to glare at the one almost responsible for his death via ham choking. “Jesus, Cas, how many times have I told you not to do that?”

Castiel only shrugged in response, turning to Gabriel after that. “We can continue now, Gabriel.”

“Five minutes, bro.” Gabriel was still busy with the task of clearing up his plate.

“I do not have much time.” Castiel’s voice was very curt, Dean noted.

“Geez, rush me, why don’t you.” Despite the answer the archangel did set his fork and knife down, getting up from his seat. “Is the panic room available, Bobster?”

“Call me that again and you’re going to have to start making your own food.”

Gabriel’s only response was a grin. “Alright Cas, downstairs we go then.”

The two angels vanished in a rustle of near-silent wings.

“So, I hear you’ve been busy.”

Castiel looked up to Gabriel as he discarded his trench coat, placing it on the table (Gabriel’s jacket had already claimed the chair) before he started to work on his suit jacket. “What do you mean?”

The archangel rolled his eyes, gesturing with his hands as he replied. “Civil war in heaven? The whole hoo-haa? Raph wanting Mike and Lucy to go at each other’s throats for some stupid reason I cannot fathom?” Seriously, Father, why did Raphael want that to happen? Did he really take so much sick joy in seeing their own brothers try to kill each other? Gabriel was already sick of it himself.

“Ah.” And now Cas was rolling up his sleeves again, almost a repeat of what he did last night. “Raphael intends to start the Apocalypse again, yes.”

Gabriel stared back at the lesser angel. “Uh, yeah, Cas. I just _said_ that.”

“I am aware.” Castiel turned around, glancing at Gabriel. “Please sit down, Gabriel.”

Gabriel sent a very flat look back in response, but did settle himself onto the cot anyway and watched as Castiel put his two neatly-folded coats onto the desk. He tilted his head upwards when the angel moved towards him (why was everybody so big anyway, Father), squaring himself as Castiel laid a hand on his shoulder again, pausing for a moment and then spoke. “You should probably lie down.”

“Make up your mind, geez,” he returned with a roll of his eyes, even as he allowed Cas to push him down onto the bed and Gabriel straightened himself, making sure that he was lying properly on the bed. The archangel found his gaze flickering up to the iron-wrought devil’s trap that made the ceiling, staring as the fan groaned above him.

“Try to relax as much as possible,” Castiel’s voice went from beside him as the younger angel’s face blocked his vision, and Gabriel felt hands pressing against his temples. “We will begin now.”

Gabriel only allowed himself a small sound of acknowledgement, sucking in a deep breath and closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but the warmth of the hands pressed against him. Slowly but surely the world melted away in the darkness behind his eyelids until there was nothing else but a soft hum and the near-silent breathing coming from Castiel himself.

_Can you hear me, Gabriel?_

For a moment the archangel felt his heart being squeezed with so many emotions (nostalgia, regret, fear, pain, _familiarity_ ) when he heard Castiel speak in his mind, in the way that almost made him remember the Host and the connection he had with it. Father, how long had it been since the last time he talked to anybody like this?

 _Yeah,_ he eventually got himself to respond, _Yeah, I can hear you._

He felt a surge of comfort coming from Castiel. _That is a good thing. This means that what’s inside you recognizes me._

 _Because you stuck your arm in me?_ Hey, he couldn’t just not say that, alright?

 _I also left a spark of my Grace inside you,_ the younger angel added, _it will make the transition of Grace easier between us._

Gabriel knew he should probably say something about what Cas had done—one didn’t just _put_ Grace into other people (or other angels), but at this moment he really couldn’t bring himself to care. Besides, he could understand the intentions behind what the angel had done. _Okay, Cas. You going to start now?_

 _Yes._ A brief pause. _The beginning might not be pleasant._

If he could, the archangel would have been rolling his eyes now. (Yeah, he didn’t need to be a genius to figure that out.) _Let’s just get this over with._

 _As you wish._ The hum started to grow louder, almost like an incessant buzzing in his ears as Castiel started to summon out his Grace. Gabriel could feel it starting to gather in the physical space between the other angel’s hands and his head—it was a quiet sort of warmth, the kind of warmth that the archangel associated with curling up in bed on a drowsy summer’s day, or the warmth from being in just the right temperature and letting himself soak up the rays of the sun. It was a good kind of warmth, nice and contented, and for a moment Gabriel almost wondered just how this would be hard.

Then without warning, the heat spiked up, surging as it went from warm to _scorching hot_ in a moment and Gabriel let out a surprised yelp before he could help himself. Castiel pressed harder against his head, the heels of his palms squeezing at his temples as fingers gripped not-too-kindly around his chin. The archangel gritted his teeth, attempting to hold in the pain and steel himself even as his toes curled up from the intense sensation, legs propping up so that his feet were on the mattress, knees pointing upwards. His hands dug into the sides of the cot, knuckles and wrists straining from the effort to keep himself in place and not arch away from the cot. The heat overlapped his senses, Grace burning through him like fire and ice threading in his veins simultaneously. Gabriel let out a pained noise through gritted teeth and bit the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw out blood, wondering just how much longer he was going to have to endure this. _Castiel—_

He felt something cool brushing against his forehead, so light and easy he could have almost swore that he imagined it all, if it wasn’t for the fact that he heard the quiet rumble of Cas’ murmured words against his skin, the whispers brushing against him like a butterfly’s wings. “We’re almost done, brother.”

“Cas,” he choked back in a voice that was almost broken, because the heat was getting hotter and hotter and _was still rising_ and Gabriel had no idea just how much more he’d be able to take—

—Gabriel gasped and opened his eyes, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as the archangel felt everything suddenly _stop_ and the heat replaced by an icy coldness. He shuddered, bones shaking and muscles trembling at the abrupt shift in temperature. He barely even registered the fact that Castiel had already taken his hands away from him and had moved, only noticing when he felt the other’s palms snaking below him and pressing against the small of his back, urging him to sit up. He did so, and gratefully accepted the glass of warm water that Cas held out for him seconds later.

“It will take about three hours before you’ll adjust to the infusion of Grace, and another three before it’s properly absorbed,” the angel said, watching Gabriel carefully as the archangel downed the glass in one go. “This should decrease with time, once you have more Grace and your vessel is more used to it.”

Gabriel made a soft hum of acknowledgement as he passed back the now-empty glass to Cas, feeling reasonably better now that he wasn’t shivering all over (although he was still cold). “Great. More volatile reactions. Just what I need.”

“It cannot be helped. Your vessel is preventing you from connecting to the Host, and your… soul is unused to pure Grace as you’ve been using what you had to keep yourself sustained back in the world you were in.” Castiel, as always, seemed to have no concept of sarcasm, and Gabriel wasn’t in the mood to start educating his brother in the ways of humanity. The archangel opened his mouth to say that, but thought better of it and closed it again.

Castiel gave an odd look at Gabriel’s reaction, although he didn’t say anything and stood up; his coats magically were back on him and the angel looked as unruffled as always. “I will return in six hours.” He bowed his head. “Please rest until then.”

“I know—” Gabriel started, stopping when he heard the tell-tale flutter of wings and Castiel was already gone. The archangel stared at the spot where the lesser angel had been for several moments before he looked up to the ceiling and snapped. “You suck at giving proper goodbyes, you know that?”

There was no response—not that Gabriel expected any, of course. He dropped his head back down and sighed, closing his eyes and ignoring how the light was playing through his eyelids. If this was what his life for the next week or so was going to be like, then his life seriously sucked right about now. It would be nice to get back to where he was, and just live the worry-free life he had been living. It had been _safe_ , at least, unlike now. But at the same time, there was nobody he could relate to there, nobody to help him in the way Castiel was doing now and nobody that gave him the strange sort of comfort that the younger angel had done.

Gabriel made himself stop at that thought and instantly banished it, turning around to burrow his head under the pillow as he tried to sleep off the exhaustion now settling in his bones.

He was way too old for this bullshit.


	5. fourth act

**IV: fourth act—strength will endure the deception of pain.**

Things hardly got any easier after that; if anything, they only got harder than ever. Harder because with each time that Castiel dropped by to continue his treatment of Gabriel, the archangel felt his resolve weakening even further. As he grew stronger he could sense the lesser angel getting weaker, pushed by both the strain of the civil war against Raphael and having to treat Gabriel; after all, Grace that had been just given like that wasn’t so quickly recovered, especially not an amount like the one Castiel gave to him every session. Heaven being in total anarchy hadn’t helped with things either; the Host was unstable because of that, thus affecting the rate of how soon Cas recovered after each time. He might have tried to hide it, but it was impossible to do that entirely when Gabriel was exposed to the other angel’s Grace so often, and he could _feel_ the differences in Castiel’s power.

The strained relationship that the younger angel had with the Winchesters didn’t escape his notice either; he had only been exposed to flashes of it at best, but it was more than enough for Gabriel to know that something was wrong. More than once during the next few days, the archangel had wanted to say something about it, but then he recalled how less-than-stellar his relationships with all of them—even to Castiel, considering how he had once been the other’s boss in his garrison who then had vanished without so much as a trace. It was enough of a surprise that Cas hadn’t even brought that up yet, but Gabriel wasn’t going to try his luck.

But the point of the matter was, saying that things were bad would be a roughly accurate description. However, if anything, Gabriel always did know how to make the best out of a bad situation.

Too bad this wasn’t just a regular bad situation he was dealing with.

“I can wait, you know.”

Castiel’s only response to that statement was a stare that went on for far too long without any sort of blinking happening in-between whatsoever and Gabriel wondered if he should even have said that in the first place. Maybe he shouldn’t have, considering the reaction he was getting. “I mean, I can wait for you to recover properly before you start plunging your hand into me all over again. The war isn’t going to wait for you up there.”

“You wish to return to the world you came from,” was all that Castiel said in reply and Gabriel really couldn't find anything to retort to that comment with, because yeah, that was pretty much what he said back when he found out what happened to him. But now just three days in and having to constantly see everybody in the household (angel included) pulling long faces and refusing to talk about their manly feelings just made Gabriel want to either smite or actually _do_ something about this whole situation. The Winchesters, he could really care less about them to be honest, but Cas—Cas who was helping him even though Raphael was pretty much steamrolling him—Gabriel felt like he owed the little guy a lot more. And yeah, maybe he would be okay with helping out said angel if Castiel would actually _talk_ to him.

Gabriel was pretty sure that the kid was still pissed about the whole ‘bumming out of heaven and moonlighting as a pagan god’ thing, since as far as he knew everyone else was pretty pissed about it in general. He supposed this was his deserved retribution, or something retarded like that, which was really kind of stupid considering he _died_ already. That and the fact that he still technically wasn’t existing in this world yet; his Grace was nearly restored, but he still needed a day to get to the correct amount and pull it off nicely without accidentally causing some sort of danger to the general surroundings (the Winchesters were annoying, but their place was alright and destroying it would be a bit of a waste). 

Castiel was still busy with putting his coats back on, so Gabriel took the chance to push on with the point he intended to make the other. “Okay, yeah, I do want to return to that world where you’re a tweet-loser and Sam and Dean are the biggest douchebags I’ve ever known. All the same, I can wait. You’re stretching yourself thin, Cas, and it isn’t going to be pretty when you finally snap.” Gabriel didn’t know if he could even handle it when that happened; after Lucifer and Michael and the Nephilim, he had about enough of his fair share of seeing his brothers and sisters going off the deep end and/or jumping off the slippery slope. He didn’t want Castiel to start going there as well.

Rather than appreciating the concern that Gabriel was giving him, Castiel only snapped back a curt response. “I can take care of myself, Gabriel.” And yeah, okay, that comment did sting a little—stinging because Gabriel remembered how much Cas depended on him once upon a time, when Gabirel was still The Messenger up in Heaven and had his garrison to deal with; a garrison he had never asked for but ended up caring for, what with the oddballs that somehow always ended up in his lap. From Anael to Uriel to Balthazar and Castiel… all of them had been important to him, once upon a time. But the first two were gone and his relationship with Balthazar was… well, he could understand why the other didn’t bother to come knocking even though the archangel was reachable. In a way, Castiel was the only one left—the ever loyal little foot soldier, something Gabriel once always teased him about. But that loyalty and faith had aided in stopping the Apocalypse and overthrowing both Michael _and_ Lucifer, and now that loyalty was the reason why he was putting himself against another archangel.

Gabriel let out a sigh as he processed all of that in his head, closing his eyes so that he could make himself focus back onto the topic at hand. “I know you can, Cas, but there’s only so long you can force yourself on this. Just… rest up or something, or whatever you can do to gain back all the Grace you’ve given to me. I can wait, bro. No worries.” Weird, perhaps, that he was actually saying something like this when once upon a time he could have cared less what happened; then again, a lot of things had happened recently. Or maybe he just didn’t want to lose the one close kin he had, but Gabriel wasn’t going to allow himself to admit that anytime soon.

The younger angel gave Gabriel another long look at those words, and Gabriel let himself stare back for a moment, at least to prove that he was being serious (for once) about the whole resting thing. It was only a moment after that Cas ducked his head, responding. “…thank you, brother.”

 _Thank Father,_ the archangel breathed out mentally as he quirked the corners of his lips upwards and replied. “No prob.”

So now there was a lull between all things that had taken place in the last two days. It was odd, but Gabriel quickly got used to it and took the time to lounge around and just let the time fly by. More often than not the archangel was content to stay out of the way of the Winchesters and vice-versa, but sometimes he couldn’t help but pop into the study and see what they were up to (usually research, or drinking, or a combination of both).

“What the heck are you guys trying to research anyway?” he finally asked, after the third time he made his appearance at the room to see all three men brooding over their books (or to be more exact, Bobby and Sam over the books and Dean at the laptop where Gabriel was sure he was looking at bustyasianbeauties.com).

Sam looked up from the massive tome that was on his lap to respond. “Anything that relates to Purgatory.”

Gabriel instantly froze at the mention of Purgatory, feeling an icy coldness crawl up his spine. Purgatory. Even Gabriel didn’t have much knowledge on it, but he knew enough to know that it was something nobody should ever mess with. Only the archangels knew why the place existed, and two of them were in Hell, one was out for the end of the world and the last was technically non-existent.

Yeah, he could see why nobody would know about this.

“...seriously?” was all that he managed to say after a moment’s pause.

All three men had their attention focused upon Gabriel now, Dean’s expression most skeptical as he asked the impending question. “Do you know anything about it, Gabriel?”

The archangel gave himself a second to think through his response before he replied. “Just a bit. Even us angels don’t know much about that place – it was one of the first things my old man created.” And if he had to be honest to himself, just that one look he had back in the Beginning had been more than enough; there was just something about that place that unsettled him badly.

The three men gave each other vastly significant looks (which Gabriel rolled his eyes to because yeah, they were just _that_ obvious) and after a pause, Bobby cast a narrowed-eyed glance towards him, speaking. “A bit is better than zilch, I’d say. Tell us whatever you know.”

Gabriel was more than willing to tell them whatever he knew—it wasn’t as if he had anything to lose—but really, it would kind of stain his record if he made it _that_ easy on them. Besides, he could use this to his advantage. “I’ll tell you all that I know if you give me back something in return.”

Dean instantly narrowed his eyes. “You want to make a deal?”

“I prefer the term ‘ _information exchange_ ’,” he corrected, waggling his finger and smirking at the scowl he got back in return. “I tell you about Purgatory, you tell me what’s been going on with you guys and little Cassie.”

“And why the hell do you want to know about that?” Dean again, of course.

Gabriel only smiled. “None of your business, Dean-o. So do we have a deal?”

The elder Winchester opened his mouth to say what was presumably a ‘no’ but Sam quickly cut in and half-shouted out “Yes” before Dean could say anything. The archangel grinned when he heard (and saw) it—trust Sammy to be the sensible one here.

“Perfect,” he started, now grabbing himself a chair to sit on and balance his elbows on his knees while propping his chin up with the heels of his palms. The way Dean was glaring at his brother didn’t escape Gabriel’s notice, but all he did was to let his smile widen before adding on. “So start talking.”

Needless to say, the whole talk was pretty awkward from the side of the Winchesters (plus Bobby), and Gabriel took a quiet pleasure in watching the two brothers squirm as they were forced to divulge the happenings that went on between them and Castiel—not that many of them were actually good things, but it was all the information that Gabriel needed to know that something was definitely up. Nobody really knew this, but Gabriel was acquainted with Crowley—although the demon hadn’t known that he was an archangel; as far as he had been concerned, Gabriel had just been Loki the Trickster.

Gabriel had found interest in Crowley mainly due to his position as King of the Crossroads—but also because he wanted to try and see just how long he could get away with being the buddy of a demon. As it turned out they were buddies for quite a while, although with everything that happened he wondered if Crowley ever found out his true identity; if anything, the incident at Elysian Fields would have given it away all too quickly. 

No time to ponder that though; what was done was done, no matter how much Gabriel would have wanted to take it back. What was more important was that the Winchesters had been certain that Crowley was gone and dead after Castiel had burned his bones—Gabriel knew for a fact that burning bones would work, but knowing Crowley… there was no way he’d let anybody find his bones so easily, _especially_ an angel. Not that Gabriel was looking down at Castiel’s abilities—but he knew Crowley well enough to know that the demon wasn’t one to let himself be done in like this. Something was just wrong with the entire picture, something that Gabriel couldn’t quite put a finger on.

Still, he wasn’t going to draw any sort of conclusion just yet; he only had one side of the story, and it wasn’t going to be fair if he decided on anything just from that. Gabriel would listen to the other side before he decided on his next course of action—even though there was a good part of him that was pretty certain that he wasn’t going to like it one bit.

“So, bro,” he started, once Castiel appeared the next day to continue with the treatment after the rest they had both gotten. “Got anything to say to me?”

The younger angel glanced up. “Pardon?”

Gabriel cocked his head to the side, looking at the other. “You haven’t really been talking to the Winchesters these days, I hear.”

There was a significant pause, one that told the archangel many things. Gabriel narrowed his eyes as Castiel glanced away. “It is not of import.”

“I’d say you not getting along with the Hardy Boys is totally of ‘import’,” the archangel retorted, not missing the way the other flinched at his words. “I mean, heck, you all went through the _Apocalypse_ together. That kind of thing should bond you all up and have you guys roast marshmallows and trading stories over campfires, not split you apart.”

“There are more important things at hand than Sam and Dean—” Castiel started, but Gabriel quickly interrupted him.

“Yeah, Cas, I know,” he went, “I know that Raphael’s up there trying to smite you into smithereens, and I understand the worries you have. But that’s no reason to cast them aside.” Vaguely Gabriel realized just how much of a hypocrite he was for saying all of this, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care that much—he wasn’t really part of this world anymore, and Cas was the one angel he could bring himself to care about. As long as his little brother was fine, nothing else really mattered to him. He had nothing much to lose at this point, anyway.

Castiel glanced away, jaw clenched while Gabriel gave both of them a few minutes to cool down. The archangel really was worried for the other, because as far as he could see, Cas was shouldering everything by himself and not wanting the Winchesters to know about whatever it was that he was doing. Gabriel couldn’t help but snort at that thought—shouldering the burdens; truly a very Winchester trait, as far as he knew. Even without knowing, the lesser angel had already picked up the Winchester trait for self-sacrifice.

Looking back at Gabriel when he snorted, Cas narrowed his eyes at the archangel for a moment before he spoke up once again. “What are your intentions in getting your answers, Gabriel? Will you raise a hand to help if you get your answers? Or will you just sit back like when the Apocalypse took place before?”

The words shouldn’t have stung Gabriel like they did, but hearing them did hurt, as true as it was. The archangel scowled, biting on his bottom lip to stop himself from snapping right back at Castiel (“I just wanted it to be over, Cas.”). He hated to admit it, but yeah, Cas was right in saying that to Gabriel; he was the one who almost forced the brothers to put an end to the world even though they were trying otherwise. He had just been so tired of the fighting and the betrayals and the backstabbing, he wanted nothing more but for it to end. So that he didn’t have to keep watching anymore, and so that he no longer needed to hide like he had been doing for so long.

“Those are two different things, Castiel,” he finally returned, voice quiet.

“And these are two different things, Gabriel,” Cas pointed out, his own voice as cold as ice. “It does not concern you.”

Gabriel clenched his jaw at those words, but didn’t say anything else; he couldn’t say anything in response to something like that.

Castiel looked away again, silent for a while longer before speaking. “I’ll return later.” And with that, he vanished in a rustle of wings and the crushing silence of Gabriel’s own guilt.

There was guilt, and there was shame, and Gabriel knew that he couldn't take back the things that he had done back in the near-Apocalypse—but what was done was done, and the archangel could only move on from there. What mattered was the _now_ and now that was making sure that Castiel was alright. To put himself against Heaven like this was no easy feat, and especially to pit himself against Raphael… his brother had never been one to be gentle, and with things as they were there was no way that his brother was going to be inclined to be merciful to Cas.

It was only due to this worry that Gabriel made the decision to follow his brother after a few minutes of mulling--Cas wasn't going to be happy about this when he found out, but it was a necessary evil until he could put his mind at ease over the angel. At least, the archangel knew there was a low chance of him being caught; he wasn't exactly back to being an angel yet without his connection to the Host, and his body was effectively unrecognized by this world. If his guess was correct, there was a good likelihood that nothing in this world could actually affect him, physically or otherwise. That included any Enochian used to as well as against him, as well as angel wards.

 _Being a non-entity has its benefits,_ Gabriel mused as he sought out Castiel's Grace, finding it almost instantly—most likely one of the side-effects of taking in his Grace for the last few days; Grace called out to Grace, especially when it belonged to the same source. The archangel closed his eyes, taking a moment to properly centre himself on the location where the angel was before he reached and tapped into his power. This was probably going to push back his recovery by quite a bit (transportation wasn’t as easy as one assumed it would be), but it was a small price to pay for ensuring Castiel's safety.

The Grace within him responded instantly to Gabriel’s call, pulsing once before the power swiftly expanded within him, coaxed out from the corners of his being as it coiled out and reached into every fiber of his existence. Gabriel could have almost sobbed in relief at the rush of energy he felt, every part of him singing in joy at the familiar feel of Grace flooding his system. It had been long, far too long since he could touch power like this. Even back in the other world the severed connection he had with the Host hadn’t let him feel like this, and _this_ was only a fraction of how things would be when he could finally re-establish his bond with the Host. The power, the comfort of Grace freely running in his being—Gabriel had missed it so, so much.

Still, there was no time to wholly celebrate this—he had a mission to do here, and Gabriel wasn’t going to let anything distract him. The archangel sucked in a deep breath, steadying himself and the Grace now sweeping in his body. He couldn’t let himself expand too much; he was only going to unlock it long enough to send him flying towards where Castiel was and back. Just a look to see if the angel was fine and nothing more than that; just enough to put his mind at ease, so that he could finally get himself to stop worrying.

He concentrated, reaching out across the world to draw himself to the steady beat of Grace that belonged to Castiel. He could sense his brother flying across the planes towards his new destination, and Gabriel allowed himself to follow the angel’s path. The moment he opened himself to do that, the archangel felt the world disappearing at his feet when he latched onto Castiel’s Grace, drawing close to its call and in the next instant Gabriel grunted as he landed roughly at his destination, tumbling across the dirt with the sun shining down hotly on him through his shut eyelids.

The archangel coughed out the dust in his lungs as he turned his body around and pushed himself up, dusting his hands off against the back of his jeans. The sun was shining down way too brightly, bright enough that Gabriel had to squint his eyes so that he could tolerate the sunlight as he cast a cursory look across his surroundings. It was quiet—too quiet—and the stench of blood hung thick in the air. Gabriel made a face as the smell assaulted his senses, licking his dry lips and turned his head towards the general direction of the lone abandoned building nearby, where he could still feel Castiel’s Grace. The signal wasn’t as strong as earlier, now much more muted, but the archangel could still feel it. He had to be close.

Nothing about this settled him though, and Gabriel found himself getting worried for the angel as he walked closer towards the entrance of the building. Something else rankled against his being now, something that caused his gut to churn in all the wrong ways and sent a feeling of dread up his spine. It was a feeling of _wrongness_ , the sensation clawing in his stomach and making his heart beat faster. Gabriel steeled and forced himself to go closer, even as each step grew harder and harder to take, anxiety filling up inside him. Castiel was still here, he could feel it, but sensing it against this storm of other emotions… what was going on here?

He paused at the entrance, biting the inside of his cheek while considering his options. Clearly, there was something going on here—this wrongness was unnatural, and Gabriel wasn’t sure what to make of his brother who was most likely dabbling in this, whatever it was. Should he go see? To look and see for himself what was going on? He may not care most of the time, but this was Castiel he was going to eavesdrop on if he was going through with this. Castiel who was helping him now, Castiel who had always only given and never asked. It felt… wrong, to betray something like that.

 _Fuck it, I’m going to be gone anyway,_ Gabriel thought to himself, quickly shaking off the last of his hesitance, and walked through the open doorway.

It didn’t take but a moment after his entrance to know that something really was wrong, as Gabriel pressed himself against a wall and cautiously waited for footsteps to pass by him, unnoticed. The scent of blood outside had now mixed with the obnoxious smell of sulfur, and there was only one reason as to why he smelled that.

_Demons._

Gabriel carefully tilted his head out, hazel eyes darting left and right to ensure that the coast was clear before he scurried down the path he had been walking on earlier. There were demons everywhere as far as the archangel could sense with his limited powers, and that was not doing anything to ease the building worry he had for Castiel. All these demons, and the angel was alone—limited as his powers were, Gabriel knew he would have a hard time getting in or out if it wasn’t for his current condition. Still regarded as a non-entity by the world itself, nothing based on this world would be able to register him properly. This was maybe one of the few good things to come out from this, not that Gabriel felt any better. He would still like to be back to normal as soon as it was possible to do so.

Darting down the hall, the archangel made sure to keep his own movements quick and light, playing safe so that nothing would have the chance to spot him. The draw of Castiel’s Grace was closer now, clearer than before as he moved deeper into the building. If his estimate was correct, all he needed to do was to turn past this corridor and—

“—took so long before you finally arrived here, angel,” drawled a vaguely-familiar voice from the room he had just been about to enter. Gabriel stilled, quickly flattening himself against the wall and strained his ears to continue listening. “Almost thought Raphael smited your ass.”

There was a slight pause before there was an answer, and Gabriel widened his eyes in surprise when it was Castiel’s voice that was speaking up. “I had other matters to attend to.”

A snort. “With the Hardy Boys, I assume. I smell Bobby Singer’s whiskey collection all over your coat.”

“Does it matter where I am?” Castiel’s voice was sharper now, curter. “You asked for my presence, and I am here.” Another pause. “I assume you have a good reason for calling me, Crowley.”

Crowley? _Crowley?_ The same Crowley that was supposed to have been burned into a crisp? Gabriel quickly stuffed his surprise back down inside himself, frowning. He should have been dead, all things considered; but here he was alive and well and apparently in contact with _Castiel_. Something was really amiss here, and Gabriel now knew he had to find out what it was. The archangel took a breath, steeling himself before he turned his head around in order to peek over the side of the wall. True to form, there was Crowley standing without a care in the world as he faced Castiel, a sardonic smirk twisting his lips. “Wouldn’t have called you otherwise, love.”

Gabriel raised an eyebrow at the nickname—he would have noticed if his brother was having intimate relations with a demon—but figured it was best not to think too hard on it for now, and stretched his neck further to catch sight of Castiel. The lesser angel stood ramrod straight, his gaze set on Crowley alone as he spoke stiffly. “You have a lead.”

“Like I said, I wouldn’t have called you otherwise.” Crowley’s smile widened, mirth written across his face as the demon rocked back on his heels, looking far too pleased for Gabriel’s tastes. “Eve is on the move.”

The archangel instantly felt his eyes widen in response to the spoken name. Eve? _Eve?_ What was this, drop bombshells on the poor dead archangel day? First Crowley was alive and now Eve was wandering around the world—the Mother of All was somebody even Gabriel did not want to tangle with, and to hear that she was topside from purgatory—this was not good news. At all. 

Neither was the fact that Castiel was taking this news with a lack of shock. Gabriel watched as the angel’s brows furrowed, contemplating more than worrying. “She is the key,” he said, so plain and simple that Gabriel felt like bashing his head against the wall. Nothing about this was plain and simple. In fact, Gabriel was already starting to think that making the Apocalypse happen would have been a much better alternative then what was happening right now. Purgatory starting to get topside, and his little bro working deals with demons? What the hell was this world coming to?

Crowley made a hum of acknowledgement at Castiel’s words, patting down his tailored coat. “Mmn-hmn. My underlings tell me she was last seen somewhere in Ohio. Apparently she planted something or another in some unfortunate truck driver.” The demon made a small shrug. “Couldn’t get close though, so there’s no way of confirming.”

“It does not matter what she is doing,” Castiel replied, turning away from Crowley. Gabriel quickly ducked his head out to hide against the wall once more, hoping that the angel hadn’t seen him—the archangel didn’t want to think of the consequences if the other caught him. There was a long, tense silence, and Gabriel tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to be found. After what almost seemed like an eternity, he heard Castiel’s voice speaking up again and barely managed to hide the relieved sigh that escaped him. “What matters more is to locate her before anyone else does.”

“Anyone else being the bozo brothers and Singer.” Gabriel didn’t even need to look to know that Crowley was making a face at the mention of the three humans. “You really need to stop hanging around them, Castiel.”

The response to that was immediate, and it was hard not to ignore the hard edge that had crept into his voice when Castiel spoke. “We talked about this before, Crowley. Breaking communication would only raise suspicion on their end. We cannot let anything jeopardize this.”

“Then why the hell did you even contact them in the first place?” Crowley retorted, now annoyed and demanding. “You could have just, you know, _ignored them._ ”

“It was only a matter of time before we would meet again. It would be safer to meet on terms that I could handle—”

“—and just expose your blatant weakness to Raphael, why don’t you—”

“Dean is not my weakness.”

Another snort coming from Crowley. “But yet you still go to his every beck and call.”

There was a long pause following those words.

“Do not presume to know me, Crowley,” Castiel spoke up, and now his voice had gone ice-cold. “I am working on my own terms.”

“If that’s what you’re telling yourself,” Gabriel barely managed to make out the half-mutter from the demon before Castiel’s voice interrupted once again. 

“If that is all, Crowley, I will take my leave.”

Gabriel took the chance and turned his head around the bend, just in time to see Crowley waving the angel off. “Sure, go stick your face back in Dean Winchester’s ass for all I case.” The sarcasm dripped from the demon’s words, hardly caring that Castiel now looked pretty damned close to smiting him. “Just make sure you know how to list your priorities properly.” 

There was no answer from Castiel except for the rustle of wings, and Gabriel knew it was time for him to leave as well. Pulling his head back, the archangel quickly slipped away from where he had been hiding and made a swift exit out of the building before he brought himself back to Bobby Singer’s place.

It was hard to face Castiel later when the lesser angel arrived for another session of his healing, but if anything Gabriel was well-versed in the art of maintaining a straight face and hiding his emotions. That had been how he dealt with the breakup of his brothers, between Michael and Lucifer’s backstabbing each other up until Dean had trapped him in holy fire and violently slammed the truth in his face.

(“This isn't about some prize fight between your brothers or some destiny that can't be stopped. This is about you being too afraid to stand up to your family!”)

“Gabriel?” came Castiel’s voice, cutting through the train of thought chugging in the archangel’s head as Gabriel blinked and jerked his head up to stare at the other. Castiel—determined, faithful Castiel—now working with demons and standing all alone against Raphael. Every part of Gabriel wanted to do nothing more than to help Cas, to aid him in the war and put Raphael back in his place; but for all that he had done back in the near-Apocalypse, Gabriel couldn’t find the strength within himself to do it. The memory of Lucifer and the sword piercing through his true form still echoed strongly in his mind, forcing a shiver down his spine.

There was a hand on his shoulder, and Gabriel blinked again, focusing his mind back to reality, finding himself blinking at Castiel’s now-worried gaze. “Are you alright?”

 _I’m not alright,_ the archangel thought, but he didn’t voice the words. Instead he closed his eyes and nodded, dropping his hands down to his sides. “I’m fine. Just a little tired.”

Castiel blinked once before his eyes narrowed, the worried frown appearing once more. “You have been using your Grace.” It was a statement, not a question, and Gabriel knew he wasn’t going to be able to talk himself out of that one.

“Yeah,” he replied, shrugging slightly as the archangel attempted to play it off. “I just wanted to see how far my recovery’s going. It’s just been too long, you know?” Too long since he could allow himself to trust one of his family, too long since he could lay eyes on anyone of his brothers and sisters. He had spent centuries and millenniums wandering across the Earth as Loki the Trickster and living in decadence with the pagans, but in the end they could never be his family, no matter how he wished it so. He was still an angel, one with Heaven and the Host—he could never turn away from his home wholly, no matter how much he tried to.

The look that entered Castiel’s eyes with those words was haunted, pained and sympathetic. Gabriel supposed it wasn’t too much of a surprise, considering that Cas himself had spent a good part of the near-Apocalypse cut off from Heaven and Falling from grace. Or Grace, either way. While Gabriel himself never truly fell, the loneliness that they had both experienced was still the same. Away from home, from family, from everything they had once been familiar with. It was never easy, no matter how much one prepared. The solitude of being alone was always the hardest thing to get used to. 

Eventually Cas lowered his head, his hand falling down from Gabriel’s shoulder as the angel straightened himself again. “I understand,” he murmured, voice a barely audible whisper. “It would be wise to refrain from such careless actions so soon, though.”

 _What about you, Cas?_ Gabriel wondered silently as he watched the angel now preparing for the session proper, thoughts running wildly in the safety of his head. _You’re the one working with Crowley and trying to do something with the Mother of All. What are you doing?_

There were so many things that Gabriel wanted to say out loud—from his deal to his plans to everything—but he couldn’t bring himself to voice them, couldn’t find it within himself to stand up against the only angel who still apparently bothered about him. He already lost Michael and Lucifer and Raphael to his own self-righteousness. He didn’t know if he could lose another one and still manage to be alright. Castiel got rid of his coat and his jacket, placing them on the chair and rolled up his sleeves. The archangel looked at the lesser angel as he drew closer, closing his eyes to brace himself for the now familiar pain. Dean’s words back in the warehouse echoed in his head again, and Gabriel couldn’t help but let a mirthless smile cross his face before Castiel’s hand sank into him.

Thoughts of Castiel and Crowley and Purgatory floated constantly in Gabriel’s head as he lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling as he recovered from the session, the archangel wondering if there was actually anything he could do. Standing up against Cas was a big no for him, but at the same time he was in no shape to help out either. But the deal with Crowley was dangerous, and Gabriel knew he had to cut in one way or another, even if Castiel wasn’t going to like it. He needed help for this, help that wasn’t from the Winchesters (because they would screw everything up) or from any party that he couldn’t trust. No, he needed—

Gabriel bolted up in bed, the answer slamming into him as clear as day as he snapped his fingers. He had his answer; now what he needed to go through with was the execution of his idea.

He waited for hours before he made his move, only taking action when he was certain enough that Castiel was busy with things up in Heaven and wouldn’t notice what he was doing here. Still, he did take precautions—he made use of Bobby’s panic room (now angel-proofed due to his efforts), taking the chance while the three hunters were sleeping; it wasn’t hard to gather the things he needed for this step, not when they summoned angels on a regular basis now. In less than a minute the spell was done, and Gabriel settled himself on a chair to wait for the other’s arrival. It didn’t even take half a minute; when the sound of wings resounded in the room, Gabriel didn’t even need to look up to see the bewildered look on Balthazar’s face. After all, it certainly wasn’t everyday when an archangel resorted to human summoning rituals to call forth an angel, let alone in an angel-warded place (not that it applied now, since the spell trumped the wards).

“Gabriel,” the other angel started, voice betraying the surprise he was trying (and subsequently failing) to hide as Balthazar inclined his head, regarding the other with a curious gaze in his eyes. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

The archangel stood up from the chair, looking up at Balthazar as he stepped forward and pulled out a list from the folds of his jacket and passed it over to the angel. “Get these things for me.”

Balthazar gave Gabriel another curious look at the request (since you know, one normally didn’t call angels up to be their personal shopping basket—but Gabriel was an archangel and Balthazar had been his protégé, so screw normality) but complied anyway, taking the strip of paper from Gabriel’s hand and looking over it himself. His eyes widened with each line that he read, and he hadn’t even gotten to half of it when he looked back up, narrowing his eyes when he glanced at Gabriel again. “This is…”

Gabriel knew he was going to be bombarded with tons of questions later, but now really wasn’t the time for that—not when he was working on a limited schedule (namely, before Cas could return and figure out what he was trying to do). “I’ll explain later,” he replied, shaking his head as he waved off the lesser angel. “Just go and get those things for me, will you? I’ve got an old friend to call up.”

A skeptical look was given in response, but Balthazar nodded and tucked the list into his jacket. “I’ll be back in twenty.” He vanished as soon as he said that, leaving the archangel alone in the room once again. Gabriel closed his eyes and sighed, settling back down onto the chair and stared at the nearby clock as he waited for the next twenty minutes to pass him by before Balthazar would return with the things he had asked for.

He knew he was going to regret this later.


	6. fifth act

**V: fifth act—everything we talked about yesterday.**

“Hey, Winchesters! Time to pack up your bags.”

Dean looked up from the book he had been staring at for the last half hour, the expression on his face about as lost as Sam’s own, as the brothers stared at Gabriel who looked far too pleased for his tastes. After having to deal with Gabriel so many times already, Dean knew that the look on his face now was most likely not going to be anything good for either of them.

Being the more level-headed one between them, Sam was the one who decided to ask the inevitable question. “Are we supposed to be going somewhere, Gabriel?”

The archangel rolled his eyes. “ _Duh._ ”

The brothers exchanged looks with each other once more; Dean turned and narrowed his eyes at Gabriel, voice curt as he spoke. “And just where are we going? Disneyland?”

“A good idea—” Gabriel started, grinning in amusement at the twin glares he got in response to that, “—but as much as I would wish to fulfill your childhood dreams, that’s not what we’re going to do. We’re going to visit an old friend of mine.”

Okay, now this was just starting to get weird. “Why the hell are we going to visit your friend?” Last time he checked, Gabriel had left a rather bad impression with the pagans, what with him being in his ‘private witness protection’ crap and all that. Of course, he had also died for it, so Dean wasn’t exactly certain where that placed the archangel for the moment.

As if having read his mind (which should be impossible, since Gabriel hadn’t recovered yet), Gabriel only rolled his eyes again, shaking his head. “Because like you guys, my friend doesn’t want Purgatory messing around with the world, so my friend’s offered to help. But before that, we need to pay a little visit.” There was a pause, and then the archangel almost added on as an afterthought. “Cas is going to bring us, not that he’s too happy about it.”

Sam blinked, seemingly confused with that fact. “He’s unhappy? Why?” And Dean had to agree with that question too—after all, if what Gabriel said was true then it meant that Cas had help, right? So why wasn’t he happy about it?

Gabriel only shrugged. “Beats me,” he said in a way that was far too casual, and now Dean was suspecting that the archangel had something to do with this. But then again, if Gabriel was the one who did this and it made Cas unhappy… just what was going on now?

Still, if the archangel was offering help when they had nothing, then there wasn’t much else they could do but to accept said help. “Okay, Gabriel. When are we leaving?”

The archangel smiled in a way that made Dean want to bash things for the sole reason of how fucking _complacent_ it looked. “As soon as Castiel arrives.”

Sam blinked again, looking at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. “It’s two in the morning, Gabriel.”

“Exactly.”

Dean _really_ wanted to hit the asshole now.

Castiel arrived with little fanfare an hour later, looking none too pleased as he appeared in the middle of the kitchen (Dean was just glad he didn’t have anything in his mouth at that moment) and instantly laid his gaze on Gabriel, displeasure curling at the corner of his lips. “Gabriel.”

“Guilty as charged,” the archangel easily replied, taking a swig from one of the beers he swiped from Sam (to both of the humans’ displeasure). “Can we go now? Don’t want to keep my pal waiting.”

The lesser angel hardly seemed pleased by the fact that Gabriel had just shrugged him off—yeah, there was something going on between them, Dean was certain of that now—and the lines around his mouth tightened, but Cas didn’t say anything else and only went with a curt nod. “Where are we going?”

Gabriel finished the last of his beer before getting up from the chair he had sprawled himself over, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You just do the driving, and I’ll do the leading.”

“You can do that?” Dean asked, still not certain at all if he could trust the archangel—it was hard to forget the asshole who killed him a thousand times. 

The archangel shrugged again. “Angel thing. So you ready, boys?”

Sam picked up the duffel bag he had put together. “As much as we’ll ever be.”

“Great.” Gabriel grinned and glanced at Castiel. “You’re up, Cas.” 

Cas nodded and instantly reached out for the two brothers; Dean only had a moment to notice that Gabriel was reaching out for Castiel at the same time, before the scene of Bobby’s room vanished and they all popped back into existence at the end of a short flight of stairs. The lift in front of them chimed the moment they appeared, the doors sliding open as a buxom Chinese lady stepped out, giving the foursome a strange look before she turned and headed to the door of her place. Dean blinked, getting used to the sudden sunlight that had replaced the night sky (did they go forward in time, or something?) as he looked around, a bit curious about the spot that Cas had dropped them. If they were visiting somebody, weren’t they just going to pop into the place?

“Just up the stairs, guys,” went the voice of the archangel as he cut Dean off from his thoughts, making his way up the stairs. Dean sent a look over to Sam, who only shrugged and followed behind; without much of a choice in the matter, he went along as well, climbing up the stairs with Cas being the last one to reach the top.

It took only a few more steps after that before they reached their destination; Gabriel turned to the left at the top landing, taking only about another five steps or so before they arrived at the doorway. It looked pretty ordinary by all means, and the potted plants that stood at the edge of the corridor where they were standing currently swayed with a passing breeze, bringing a pleasing scent along with it.

Dean blinked. “Well, this seems like a pretty cozy place.”

Neither Cas and Gabriel didn’t seem to agree though. The archangel was looking at the plants and frowning at them, while Cas looked up at the half-faded paper decorations that were hanging from above. Sam followed the younger angel’s gaze, eyes widening slightly as the gears clicked into place in that giant nerd head of his.

“Dean,” he started in an incredulous tone of voice. “They’re Enochian.”

“What?” And yeah, now he was going to look up too and he wasn’t all too brushed up on his angel language but _fuck_ , he could make out one or two of those paper cuttings. How could somebody even cut out _Enochian_ with paper and let it hang like that?

The surprises didn’t end there, as Cas narrowed his eyes even more and added on. “The ceiling has a Devil’s Trap hidden in it.”

“Done in—done with _coke_ ,” Gabriel breathed out now that he was looking up to squint at the ceiling too, and Dean wasn’t sure how he should exactly feel about that. “I just hope there’s no banishing sigil hidden here too.” 

“There’s one on the back of this door,” replied an amused, almost female sounding voice behind them. The four turned around and the Winchesters were both left staring at the rather unimpressive sight of a (very decidedly, even with the deep not-so-female voice) female teenager wearing loose shorts and a ratty cotton shirt, that looked like it was most likely one size too big for her and worn one too many times. Her skin was slightly tanned, and the light of the sun gleamed off unruly (even though it was tied up into a ponytail) shoulder-length green hair that had streaks of white flying about wildly, along with a crop of it bouncing at her forehead. Her eyes were of the deepest shade of green, sparkling like emeralds as the girl looked over at Gabriel and grinned toothily. “No worries, I’m not going to use it on either of you guys.”

“That would kind of defeat the purpose of the visit,” Dean muttered under his breath in response—the words earned him a sharp jab in the ribs from Sam, who glared at him pointedly.

The girl only let out a small laugh. “There’s a point,” she agreed, stepping back from the doorway so that the four could enter. “Come in, make yourselves at home. You guys picked the right time to show up—the granny just went out.”

Dean looked at Sam and mouthed a questioning ‘granny?’ in confusion, but the younger Winchester only shrugged in the universal gesture of ‘don’t ask me, I don’t have a clue’. Dean punched Sam on the arm in response to that and mouthed the usual ‘Bitch’ as he walked past his brother and settled himself on the couch closest to the door.

“Jerk,” Sam gritted out in a delayed response seconds later when he came to sit beside his brother, letting out a surprised shout when a hiss sounded and apparently the furry cushion that Sam had almost sat down on was actually a very disgruntled cat.

“Don’t mind the idiot,” the girl went with an idle wave of her hand, as she stuck her tongue out at the fleeing feline. “Bast’s just having a bad week—ah, Coyote! You’re back.”

There wasn’t even a second for the Winchesters to process the fact that they had just met _Bast_ when a larger-than-life Siberian Husky padded into their vision from nowhere, a plastic bag hanging from his jaws which the girl took care of, grinning when she pulled out the bag of cola candies that had been inside and gave the canine a scratch behind its ears before sending it off in the direction of where Bast had fled.

Sam looked at Dean now, his expression incredulous as he whispered out and yeah, Dean could sense an oncoming nerd attack on the way now. “Bast? Coyote? They’re practically _ancient_ , Dean.”

“They’re old friends of mine,” the girl replied and Sam jumped, obviously not having expected to be heard. The reaction only made her laugh, opening the packet of cola candies and extended it towards the brothers. “Want some?”

“Uh—” Sam started, not quite sure what to say, but Gabriel quickly beat the younger Winchester to the punch and was grabbing a handful of sweets for himself.

“I’ve been having a craving for them, thanks.”

“No prob,” the girl grinned again, now extending the pack towards the stone-faced Castiel. “How ‘bout you, angel? They’re pretty good.”

Castiel didn’t look entirely convinced, but Gabriel’s pigging out was more than enough to voice out the archangel’s approval of the treats and so the angel allowed himself to take a few. With both the angels accepting, Sam and Dean didn’t see any reason why they couldn’t and so grabbed some as well, and Dean couldn’t help but make a surprised sound at the rich and sweet taste of coke that flooded the taste buds on his tongue. Okay, he had to admit: these sweets really weren’t that bad at all.

“Alright!” the girl suddenly started after a minute, the abruptness of her voice almost making Dean choke on his sweet (Sam slapped him hard on the back just to make sure that it wasn’t happening). “Now that we’re all finally settled down and not paranoid enough to murder each other, I guess we can know each other on a first name basis.” That said, she looked across the room, gazing at all four of them before pointing at Dean and moving to each one of them, ticking off their names as she passed each one. “Dean, Sam, Gabe, Cas, Loki.” The last name was said with a thumb jab towards herself, and Sam’s eyes widened when that happened.

“Loki?” he repeated, and Dean wondered if he could smack his brother for being such a damned parrot at times.

Loki grinned, nodding in acknowledgement. “That’s what you guys can call me; it’s great to meet you.”

“There cannot be two Lokis at one time,” Cas chose that moment to cut in, a hint of confusion just audible within that deadpan tone of his. Beside Sam, Gabriel sighed in a way which Dean could easily relate to. Little brothers, sometimes bring way more embarrassment than you wanted to admit.

The girl only laughed once more, somehow finding amusement in the angel’s words. “Well, technically Gabriel doesn’t belong in this world anymore since he died here—” and Dean couldn’t ignore the minor bitchface that Gabriel made there, or the almost unnoticeable flinch that Cas did “—so the Loki spot is still kinda lacking, if you know what I mean.” She shrugged, ponytail whipping along with the action. “I’m just filling in until there’s a proper guy for the position.”

Dean furrowed his eyebrows, not very convinced at the way that answer sounded to him. “You can just _fill_ in god positions like that?”

Loki only grinned again, and this time it was one of those mysterious smiles that practically screamed ‘I know something that you don’t’ and mostly just made Dean want to punch things (hopefully faces). “Just this one.”

Gabriel interrupted before Dean could respond; doing what was most likely the most fake clearing of the throat ever as the archangel looked over to Loki in a way that suggested… respect? Uncertainty? Dean wasn’t too sure what to make of the look that was now on the shorter man’s face. Whatever it meant though, it was something Dean couldn’t so easily put away—Gabriel was a freaking archangel after all, and here he was looking at some pagan god like she could kill him with a thought or something. Whoever the kid was, she had _something_ that even somebody like Gabriel was wary about; that thought alone unsettled him.

“So… Loki,” he started—and yeah, there was definitely something unsettling about this; it was hard to miss the way the name came out so strangely on Gabriel’s tongue, as if he was unused to the name or something which certainly didn’t make any sense if this girl was supposed to be his ‘old friend’. “Since you agreed to meet us here, I guess that means you’re okay with it?”

“Hm?” Loki returned with a blink, head tilted in a way that almost resembled Cas’ trademark headtilt as she glanced towards the archangel and then broke into another grin, shrugging. “Nah, I just wanted to see how you were doing. Almost recovered?”

Gabriel blinked back in response, for once at a loss for words (Dean only wished he had something that could capture this moment properly) as he stared for a moment before shaking himself out from his pause, stumbling momentarily over his words. “Yeah, almost. Cas is helping me.” He looked over to Cas for a second once he said that, an action which made Dean frown a bit and wonder if something was going on without his knowledge—not that he wanted to know _everything_ that was going on, but this was Cas; he was important to him. He was family.

 _Would_ be family, no matter what happened. 

Loki nodded in acknowledgement to the archangel’s words, the expression on her face thoughtful as the teenager lapsed into contemplation. Dean and Sam only continued to look at her as Gabriel returned to eating his sweets, nudging Castiel to try one as well. “It’s really good, Cas.”

“They’re just sweets, Gabriel.”

“But they’re _really good_ sweets, and it’d be a shame if you didn’t have one.”

Castiel still didn’t seem to be convinced, but relented all the same and opened one for himself, popping it into his mouth. Gabriel grinned when he saw the other angel’s eyes going wide in a way that could only mean surprise. “Told you it was good.”

“I would be losing my touch if it wasn’t,” Loki spoke up once more, smirking a bit at the stares she received back in turn for that comment, and Dean was the one who pulled out the question.

“You fucking _mojo’d_ the candy?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “If I did, all four of you would be in bed humping one another right now—” She effortlessly ignored the choking sounds everyone made in response, the smirk on her face growing just a bit wider as she went on without pause. “—but I’m no sex god, and it’s probably not a good idea to sear this kid’s eyes even if she reads gay porn on a regular basis.”

The brothers stared in shock, Castiel in a way that suggested confusion, and Gabriel just gave Loki an incredulous look. “You’re in a _vessel?_ ”

Loki shrugged. “Why not? She asked, I questioned, she agreed. It’s a win-win situation.”

Neither Dean and Sam weren’t all that comforted knowing this (gay porn aside, which was just _wrong_ ), while Gabriel simply frowned again, quietly considering this new piece of information. Cas, as socially inept as ever, only tilted his head to the side and eyed Loki with some scrutiny. “Pagan gods have no need for a vessel,” he said, voice as flat and as matter-of-fact as always.

Again, the girl rolled her shoulders in the gesture of a shrug. “I am a Trickster. No sense following rules all the time, right? Besides,” she added on, grinning once more. “Kid’s all but squealing at how she’s finally seeing the Wincesters for herself.”

The brothers both whipped their heads around to stare at Loki as if she had grown a second head, while Gabriel snorted and laughed out loud, slapping a hand against his knee as he chortled out in-between breaths. “Win _cesters_. Oh, that’s a good one.”

Cas only frowned, not quite getting the joke. “I do not understand what is so funny about getting Dean and Sam’s surnames wrong.”

Sam made one of his epic bitchfaces (#110, better translated to ‘oh god not this again _why is this happening to me_ ’) while Dean glanced over at the angel, mumbling out to him while both Loki and Gabriel were currently busy laughing their asses off. “You don’t want to know Cas, trust me.” He did make a mental note to punch the shit out of Chuck if he ever saw the prophet again—underground series his _ass_ ; this was just getting way too fucking out of hand.

Fortunately Loki recovered from her amusement soon enough, although she was still wiping away the tears that had formed in her eyes while she managed out in-between amused huffs of laughter. “Wincesters, ha… going to save that for the books, I think.”

Dean scowled. “Can we just move this conversation along?”

“As soon as you and your sasquatch of a brother are done making doe eyes at each other,” Gabriel returned, bursting into laughter once more along with Loki, and Sam’s bitchface swiftly evolved (the standard #26 ‘your immaturity is stupid and I don’t know why I even bother putting up with you’) from the one he already wore.

“Okay, okay,” the girl finally managed after a few more moments of choking up with laughter (Dean had a passing wish that she could choke on her own breath and die on it, but then remembered that there was a real human in there too). Loki straightened herself, putting out the best expression of neutrality she could manage even if Dean could clearly see the mask slipping off at any time, the corners of her lips constantly twitching as she looked between the other three not Gabriel. “Gabriel already told me most of what’s going on, and I already got the message passing around. There’s going to be a meeting tomorrow, and you guys are going to be the guest-of-honours. Does that comfort you?”

“If by ‘guest-of-honour’ you mean ‘being the main course’, then no.” Dean couldn’t really forget about the incident at Elysian Fields. If there were so many pagan gods going to be attending, then how many humans were they going to take and _eat_ for this event?

Loki rolled her eyes once more, although she almost seemed amused. “No, no humans will be killed and/or scarified for this meeting. You have my word on it.” There was a pause as she frowned a bit and then added an afterthought. “Some guys won’t be happy about it, but eh. They’ll have to deal. S’just a meeting anyway.”

Dean wasn’t sure at all if he could trust this strange god inhabiting some teenager girl’s body (who wasn’t even hot, but that wasn’t the point), but since Loki hadn’t done anything to deserve his distrust Dean supposed he could only place whatever faith he could trudge up for her. If anything, at least Gabriel seemed to respect her, and Gabriel respecting _anybody_ was a pretty big thing. Dean supposed he didn’t have too much to lose at this point. With that in mind, he nodded to agree with the girl’s words.

Instantly Loki grinned, her emerald eyes sparkling with something that almost seemed like accomplishment. “Great. I’ll pick you guys up tomorrow, so don’t worry about being late or lost. I’ll tell Gabe before I pop in, so don’t worry about me randomly ninjaing in.”

“Well, that is _if_ I tell them,” Gabriel added with a grin that never spoke well.

The girl rolled her eyes again. “Don’t be such a constant dick, Gabriel.”

“Hey, it’s been a while, okay? Let a guy have his fun.”

“Uh-huh,” Loki returned with a snort, putting it in a way that was completely disbelieving and Dean couldn’t help but grin a bit at the epic Gabriel bitchface that the girl got in return. Yeah, maybe she wasn’t all that bad after all.

Castiel decided to step into the conversation then, saving Gabriel from more unintentional humiliation. “I assume we are done here?”

The girl blinked for a moment before it clicked. “Pretty much,” she replied, snapping her fingers as an afterthought and four cards appeared in her hand. She gave them a glance before holding them out towards the foursome, continuing on. “Here, one card for each of you. You’re going to need it.”

All four men (and men-shaped beings) exchanged glances with one another at that, silent for a moment before Gabriel moved to swipe the cards from Loki’s hand and tossed one to each of the other three. Both Sam and Dean caught theirs easily, while Castiel juggled with his for a second before he held it properly in his hand, studying it just as Dean did the same. It was a plain, blank card with nothing but a horizontal stripe printed across the lower section; he turned it back and saw the same design. “What the heck is this?” he asked, raising his head back up and arched one eyebrow towards Loki.

“Transit cards,” she replied, smiling. “Cars aren’t as handy as you might think here, so you all are going to have to stick with public transport.”

Sam frowned, unsure what to make of the girl’s choice of words. “Here?” he echoed, raising one eyebrow himself.

“Mmn-hmn,” Loki returned. “The transport system here is pretty decent, so you guys should have some fun riding into the city. Lunch hour’s over, so the crowd shouldn’t be too bad.”

Okay, now he was really getting confused. Dean gave Sam a glance before returning his gaze back to Loki, asking the million-dollar question. “So as in ‘here’, just exactly where the hell are we?”

“Singapore,” Dean muttered under his breath, as one very disgruntled human, one not-so-disgruntled but more interested human, one rather confused angel and one _very amused_ archangel stepped back out into the sunshine, after Loki had cheerily sent them out from the apartment. “Seriously? Singapore?” Actually, Dean had next to no idea that this country even _existed_ —Asia was a continent that Dean rarely concerned himself with, unless it involved bustyasianbeauties.com. That website did not have any Singapore people on it, last time he checked.

Beside him Sam seemed much more interested at their current location, casting his gaze around the neighbourhood and raising both his eyebrows at the sights he was taking in. “It doesn’t seem like such a bad place.”

“You have no idea, Gigantor,” Gabriel piped up from Dean’s other side, teeth crunching down noisily on a cola candy. “This here’s the one and only bona-fide neutral territory for any self-respecting pagan god. Nobody’s crazy enough to try and dominate this little country.”

Castiel, from behind them all: “Why?”

Dean watched as Gabriel turned around to regard Cas with a glance, silent for a second before he turned back to shrug. “This place’s the prime definition of meshed up wonderland. Too many cultures and beliefs spread across such a tiny spot of land. I mean, yeah, the five million or so people living here make up for it—but it’s not enough, you know? Everything’s too cramped up.” The archangel crunched up the last of the sweet in his mouth before gulping it down. “Too many powers in one small area. No use fighting each other, unless we want a full-scale riot on our hands. So when this place was noted, Kali and the others decided to make this the one true neutral land for all of us.”

The elder Winchester blinked at the answer. Huh. Who knew that the pagans could manage something like that? You learned something new every day, it seemed. Sam, now much more interested (and Dean could see the geek coming out now), made his way over towards Gabriel and continued to question the archangel with several other questions that Dean didn’t bother to listen to because it wasn’t his concern.

“It’s been a long while since I last set foot here,” Gabriel admitted, when Sam asked him about the last time he was here. “Back then, I think the trains just started or something. I don’t really keep track of time.” There was a pause. “Oh, wait, I remember. It was back in ’92. The country just banned chewing gum for the lamest reasons. I snapped some gum over because of that. Got some pretty hilarious results.”

“How the heck do you know about this country anyway, Sam?” Dean asked, cutting in on the conversation as he turned one eye to his brother.

Sam shrugged slightly. “Did a paper about it once. It’s got a bit of a reputation for regularly using the death penalty on criminals.”

Dean paused and stared. “…Seriously?”

“Uh, yeah.” Sam looked a bit uncomfortable himself now, as if just having realized the implications of his words. “Good thing we’re considered legally dead by the FBI, huh?”

“Don’t remind me,” Dean returned with a small grunt, quickening his pace down the path. “Can’t one of you just mojo us there from here?”

“She didn’t tell us where we were supposed to go to, Dean,” came Castiel’s voice, tinged with the slightest bit of his own annoyance that only became more evident when the angel transferred his question towards Gabriel. “How are we supposed to know where to go?”

The archangel only waved off the question. “We’ll know it when we see it, bro. No worries.”

Judging from the long silence that came after that, Dean supposed that Cas thought otherwise.

As it turned out, they did know where to go in the end—Gabriel found the directions sitting inside the wrapper of the last of the cola candies he had taken from Loki earlier, words written in a messy scrawl across the slip of paper. _Train to EW 13, guys. From there head to Hotel Swiss Stanford. Got two rooms booked under Gabe's name._

“Guess we better follow her directions then,” the archangel went with a shrug as he led them towards the train station now in their sights. Going around in the mid-afternoon crowd wasn't too hard, and after watching a few of the commuters it was easy enough to figure out what to do with the cards that Loki had given them. Tapping at the reader the machine beeped and released the barrier, allowing Dean to go through to the other side where the trains were.

Sam followed after him, a mildly surprised look on his face as the younger Winchester turned back to glance at Gabriel now going through the barrier. “Huh. That's kind of neat.”

“I can see your geek coming out, Sammy,” Dean muttered with a roll of his eyes, watching Castiel trailing behind the rest of them. The angel looked somewhat perplexed by the machine, blue eyes still trained on it even as he went through and walked towards them. 

There probably wasn't anything for him to worry about, but Dean couldn't help but ask anyway, just to be certain. “Anything wrong there, Cas?”

Castiel turned his gaze towards Dean, blinking at him once before returning his gaze to the barrier. “The system here is rather efficient,” he murmured, voice loud enough only for Dean to hear.

Dean rolled his eyes again. It figured that Cas would be about as much of a geek about this as Sam was.

One successful train ride later (minus the fact that Cas looked interested in almost everything that was happening during the ride over), Gabriel snapped them over to the hotel that Loki had indicated once they were out, reappearing at the corner of a rather finely furnished lobby. The crowd wasn't too big either, but it was busy enough that nobody really noticed the abrupt arrival of four people. Looking at all the men and women milling around in their business suits however, made Dean wonder if they should even be here; after all, they certainly had no ability to stay in any high-class fancy hotel.

Gabriel on the other hand didn't seem too concerned with the fact that they were four severely under-dressed people going about in a high-class hotel, easily tucking his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he made his way over to the counter. After a moment of hesitance, Dean followed after the archangel, both Sam and Castiel following close behind.

“Good afternoon, miss,” the former Trickster started, a charming smile stretched across his face. “I'm here for my reservation.”

The lady at the counter hardly seemed mollified by the charm, only giving Gabriel a rather critical look before asking. “Your name, sir?”

There was a pause on Gabriel's end before he replied. “Gabriel Coyote.”

Both Sam and Dean exchanged glances at each other at the name, while Castiel made an exasperated sound. Gabriel only waved them off before returning his attention back to the receptionist who was presenting his key cards and telling the archangel the necessary information. 

“Thank you, sugar,” Gabriel returned with a last sweet smile, graciously taking the cards before he returned to where Dean and the others were waiting for him. The archangel plucked out one of the cards in his hand and held it out to the elder Winchester, grinning. “Here you go, Deano. One room for you and Gigantor. Since you two need your rest, we'll just meet up at seven after both of you have your beauty sleep.”

Dean gave the card a momentary glance before letting out a grunt and taking it from Gabriel's hand. “Good to know.”

Sam let out a contented sigh as he settled on one of the beds in their hotel room. “This is a change.”

Yeah, it was a change alright—and one that Dean did not like at all. He didn't like the fact that they were in some plush hotel room provided by Gabriel's mentor, or whatever the fuck she was; he didn't like the fact that Gabriel had all but dragged them off while they had been in the middle of their research and most of all, he didn't like the fact that they were _across the frickin' world_. How the fuck were they even supposed to do anything here? “I don't like this, Sam.”

Sam sighed and turned his gaze towards Dean, making one of his sympathetic looks. “Yeah, I don't really like this either. But—” He glanced at the window, looking at the view of the Singapore skyline sitting so nearby. “There's really not much we can do about it.”

“We can just ask Cas to send us back,” Dean replied, running a hand through his hair and trying not to tear it out in irritation.

Sam paused for a moment. “He sure didn't seem too pleased in coming here at first, huh?”

“That's coz' Gabriel pulled a dick move and plotted behind our backs,” Dean returned, and then stopped as his mind caught up with what his next words had been. _And Cas is busy with Raphael, so he doesn't have time for all this bullcrap._

Shit. Dean recalled how things had been with Cas ever since he met the angel again, and he felt a pit begin to claw open inside his stomach. Shit, wasn't that pretty much what he had been doing to Cas himself? He had never really thought about it—what with Lisa and Ben, and Sammy running around without his soul—but right now, with his last words dying on his tongue, Dean slowly connected the dots in his head.

Son of a bitch.

“Dean?” Sam started, blinking in confusion at his brother's sudden silence.

Dean quickly pulled himself out from the sudden deluge of thoughts and waved his little brother off. “It's nothing, Sammy.” Except that it was really a lot of things all of a sudden, and Dean did not want to start thinking about all of them. There was already enough crap going around at the moment, and he really did not need any more of it—especially when it all came from within. Fuck his life, seriously.

Sam, of course, could instantly tell otherwise and put on bitchface #87 ('Your constant attempts to play things off are so not working') but didn't say anything else. He did, however, let out a small sigh and turned away so that Dean could have his space. “Okay, whatever you say.” And Dean knew that this really wasn't the end of it—Sammy was onto it now, and soon his non-ending stream of questions and probes would begin. He just hoped that it'd start later rather than sooner, because he really was in no mood to start contemplating sudden revelations and stupid thoughts that refused to leave his head.

Dean made a frustrated grunt and kicked off his shoes at the foot of his bed. “Gabriel gave us time to crash, not talk about feelings and braid each other's hair. Go to bed, Sam.”

There was another disbelieving snort from his younger brother at those words, but Dean heard the mattress beside him creak under the weight that was his giant of a brother. “Night, Dean.”

“Night.” And Dean forced himself not to think of anything else after that, instead directing his focus towards sleeping. After being zapped across the world, he damned well needed his fucking rest. 

Friggin' archangels.


	7. sixth act

**VI: sixth act—of force and friction.**

Gabriel knew that he was going to have to face this eventually. Coming face to face with Cas wasn't exactly in the archangel's to-do list, but it was unavoidable especially considering what he did. Keeping his eyes on the mirror he was standing in front of, Gabriel sighed as he pushed up his hair, pressing it back down against his scalp before he turned towards the angel now glaring at him. “Look, Cas, I know you're not happy about this—”

“I did not require help from the pagans,” Castiel replied, voice as cold as the frost-blue of his eyes. Gabriel sighed again as the angel added. “They will not help with my cause.”

“Better to have some help then having no help at all, right?” the archangel attempted to smooth out the situation, but found it impossible against the ice-cold of Castiel's anger. Gabriel cast a glance to the lesser angel, making an exasperated sound at the glare that Cas was giving him and moved to settle at the foot of his bed, bouncing slightly on the mattress. He remained silent, the tension in the room rising with each moment that passed them by.

Castiel was the one who eventually broke the silence, shifting forward ever so slightly closer to Gabriel. “...They can barely stand against Raphael,” he said, slowly, and Gabriel couldn't deny that fact—Raphael was only about a notch or two lower than Lucifer, but the archangel knew that his brother could still slaughter all of the pagan gods if they stood up against him. But it was also because of this fact that Raphael didn't bother to pay attention to them, and it was this fact that Gabriel was banking on. There weren't many other options at hand to be honest, and this was the best he could come up with in these circumstances. The only hard thing would have been Loki's cooperation, but seeing as she had agreed so easily Gabriel had little else to worry about now, at least for the moment.

Gabriel shrugged. “Something good might happen,” he replied, flopping down properly against the bed and letting out a pleased noise. Father, these beds were _awesome_. Loki really knew how to pick them. 

There was another bout of silence, one that was broken by Castiel once again. “Why did you suddenly offer your help?”

And that was the sixty-four dollar question, wasn't it? Gabriel didn't reply at once, instead opting to close his eyes and think quietly. To bring himself out to help Castiel and aid him in the war against Raphael... in a way, that alone was an act of standing up against one of his closest brothers. The memory of Lucifer was still echoing in his mind, and a good part of Gabriel was still scared as hell. But... well, this was Castiel, the angel who pushed his own faith to the limit and ended up stopping the Apocalypse because of it. If he had to be honest Gabriel still wasn't certain if that was the best thing to do—to end the end of the world like that—but he was glad that it didn't end with his brothers killing each other. Michael and Lucifer, his brothers who had once loved each other so much, so strongly that they ended up fighting each other because of it.

—but now here he was caring for Castiel much more than he should, trying to give his aid even when he saw the angel working with demons and dealing in things that should have never been dealt in, in the first place. Purgatory hung over them all like another impending apocalypse, and the last thing that Gabriel wanted was for the world to be placed at the brink of extinction once more. It wasn't because Gabriel felt heroic or magnanimous, or whatever the heck people might think; this was a world that had pulled itself out of its own end, a testament to so many things that Gabriel did not dare to even name in his head. Lucifer and Michael and Raphael all wanted for the end of the world to come, wanted the destruction of humans; but here humans had proved that they had the power to do what they believed, and they stopped the end of the world to prove it. Nothing could prove their statement better than that.

Gabriel opened his eyes, placing his gaze anywhere but the angel staring at him as he replied. “You should know already, Castiel.” He had chosen humanity and the Winchesters in the end, and Lucifer killed him because of that.

“You're willing to put yourself at risk again?” the angel questioned, and Gabriel could just hear the unspoken questions in his voice. _Why? Will you really do this? Are you going to leave when things get tough?_ There were so many of them, but the archangel didn't respond to any of those questions. He didn't have answers for any of them, anyway.

Instead all he did was to simply shrug and give Castiel a passing glance. “Got nothing much to lose now at this point, do I? 'sides, I'd hate to go off while owing you bozos something.”

The look that Castiel gave him at his answer was a strange one, littered with a million and one emotions that Gabriel couldn't really place distinctly. But the intensity of that look caused his stomach to lurch uncomfortably, and the archangel cleared his throat as he discreetly glanced away. What was that about?

“I understand,” was all that Castiel eventually said in response.

 _Understand what?_ Gabriel wondered in his head, but on the outside he merely smiled and chirped back to him. “Great to know that we're on the same page.”

Castiel nodded in return, and then inclined his head yet again. “Still, why the pagans?” 

Why the pagans, indeed. Gabriel shrugged once more, idly kicking his tennis shoes off from his feet before he replied. “They're still helpful in other ways. Although—” the archangel paused, sucking in a deep breath as he steeled himself for the next words he would be speaking. _Here goes nothing._ “—it’s the thing with Purgatory that Loki and I are more worried about.”

The reaction was instantaneous. Castiel instantly jerked his head up, blue eyes boring into Gabriel's sight and the archangel was just glad that Cas couldn't probe into his memories; everything would have fallen apart then the moment the angel saw his memory of when he eavesdropped on the other's meeting with Crowley. Gabriel continued to play it cool, keeping a straight face as Castiel took one step closer towards the bed and nearly spat his words in an urgent demand. “What do you know about Purgatory?”

“Not much,” he replied, expression still schooled even while he rolled his shoulders in a shrug. “Dad only told me about as much as he told you, which was pretty much nothing at all.” Which was also pretty much a lie—he knew of Eve and some other things, but until he actually understood what was going on with Castiel, he wasn't going to just divulge information like that. He had to play it safe, no matter how much he wanted to try and trust his brother; his gut was screaming something else entirely, and if anything Gabriel was one to trust his gut feelings.

Castiel opened his mouth to start speaking, but Gabriel held up a hand to stop his brother, continuing. “Loki knows better than me here, which is why she's helping out. Aiding you was something I added on at the end.” He put down his hand, letting it rest on top of the covers and kept his gaze there while finishing his explanation. “She said she wanted to see you first before deciding, and I guess her answer's as much of a yes as I can figure out.” Loki had always been an enigma to Gabriel from the moment he met her, but the one thing he could at least understand was the fact that Loki was never one to go back on her word. At least up to that, Gabriel knew that he could trust her. “The meeting's tomorrow, so when it comes we'll just know more, I guess.”

The pause stretched on after those words, but Gabriel didn’t let it affect him, keeping his gaze trained on Castiel as the angel shifted slightly under the strange intensity of the archangel’s gaze. If Castiel’s own intense stares toward Dean Winchester were bad, this one was about five times worse. Gabriel only broke his staring when Castiel finally nodded, bright blue closing against harsh hazel. “I will trust your words, Gabriel.”

 _But can I trust yours?_ The archangel thought to himself once more with a mental sigh, biting back the real one that threatened to leave him as he forced out a reply. “Great.”

The evening was rather quiet, all things considered, although Castiel left as soon as the Winchesters were awake saying he had matters to attend to back in Heaven. Gabriel waved him off while Dean hadn't looked too pleased about it—something that the archangel wasn't all that surprised about; even though they were on the same side now, Gabriel had still spent a hundred days or so killing Dean in every possible way known to man, and then some. Even he would have had a hard time not holding a grudge against something like that.

Taking Dean's hostility in stride, Gabriel allowed their time in the evening to pass in peace; they ordered room service up to his room (since it was closer to the lifts), being too lazy to go anywhere, and it wasn't as if there was any place they could go in this joint. Once the food had been delivered, the brothers plus Gabriel instantly dug into their meal without reservation.

“Man,” the archangel started as he chewed on his fried noodles (drenched in copious amounts of ketchup) . “It has been a while since I got to eat food like this.”

Sam made a small, disbelieving sound from his salad. “You never ate any Chinese back there?”

Gabriel snorted. “That's not what I mean. This place—” he gestured towards the window where the city skyline still stood, countless lights twinkling back at them like stars. “—it's got some of the best food around, y'know. And I've eaten a whole bunch of things.”

Dean looked up from his hamburger, one eyebrow raised he gave a disbelieving look. “Seriously, Gabriel?” he went, not at all sold on the archangel's words. “Of all the things, food?”

“You wound me, Dean-o,” he replied, a fake look of hurt on his face. “Even I have my softer side.”

“Hell can freeze over first.”

“Dean.” Sam's voice cut in-between them, both exasperated and cautious.

“I'm just saying, Sammy,” Dean quickly retorted, green eyes never leaving Gabriel. “This dick killed me like a million times. Mystery Spot, remember?”

Sam looked at the archangel for a moment, lips pursed as he turned back to his brother. “Yeah, Dean. Kind of hard to forget that.” 

“Then why are you even letting him drag us around?” Dean's voice was rising higher now, his tone harsher and more demanding. “We've got other things to worry about, like the fact that you're remembering Hell—”

“What?” Gabriel instantly started, having not heard about that until now. What was this about Sam remembering Hell?

“—or this whole Purgatory thing that we really need to get a move on.”

“Seriously, stop right there.” The archangel held up his hand and forced out a bit of his Grace, making Dean snap his jaw shut and no amount of death glares that Dean sent towards him would make Gabriel reverse what he had done—at least until he was done, anyway. Gabriel lowered his hand and turned to Sam, questioning the younger Winchester. “What's he talking about, Sam?”

Sam closed his eyes and sighed in a small a gesture of defeat. “I didn't come out of Hell complete. My soul was left in Lucifer's cage for a while.”

“I know about that,” Gabriel half-snapped; he had been around during the filming of that episode back in the other world, mainly due to curiosity. Still, he hadn't really expected for that to be _real_. He filed the thought away for later reference, now concentrating more on questioning Sam about whatever else he needed to know. “What's this about you remembering Hell?”

“Well, Death—”

“ _Death?_ ” Father, could things even get more wacky than this? 

“Yeah, Death. Dean made a deal—”

Gabriel instantly turned his gaze to the elder Winchester, the disbelieving look now on his face. “Seriously, Dean? Death? Of all people, _Death_?” Jesus, these suicidal tendencies could only get so far, but Dean seriously must have set a record or something. Said human was currently glaring back at the archangel that only screamed the words _fuck you_ at him.

“Yeah,” Sam started again, glancing at Dean for a second before returning his gaze back to Gabriel. “Death got my soul out of the cage and put it back in me. Then he put up this wall so that I wouldn't remember Hell, because it's apparently pretty bad.”

“I can imagine,” Gabriel allowed himself to mutter in an undertone. The Apocalypse averted and with Michael and Lucifer locked in the cage, the archangel could only imagine the things they'd have done to one half of the main pair responsible for it all. Even he had to shudder a little at the possibilities and images that popped up in his head; when it came to punishment and torture, nobody did it better then his brothers. 

Gabriel tried not to see the irony in that fact.

“So, um,” the younger Winchester paused, shrugging helplessly. “So there's this wall in my head that I'm not supposed to scratch but, you know—”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Gigantor,” Gabriel went pointedly, shooting a glance over to the human. “You'd do well to keep it in mind.”

Sam let loose a loud sigh and clapped his hands together. “You don't need to tell me that,” he returned, wryness clear in his voice.

Dean made a muted, strangled sound from his seat then, and Gabriel didn't need to be a genius or a mind-reader to know what Dean was trying to ask. With a small sigh of his own, the archangel waved his hand, and instantly Dean was gasping loudly as the bonds holding his mouth shut were released.

“Your suicidal tendencies are legendary,” Gabriel remarked dryly, once Dean was done getting his composure back.

“Fuck you.”

“Language, big boy,” the archangel snorted back, easily ignoring the responding glare.

“I had been wondering what was up with Sam's soul,” piped up a completely new voice in the room. All three men instantly whirled around, blinking in surprise at the sight of Loki lounging on the untouched bed reserved for Castiel, looking as unconcerned about everything as always.

“Loki,” Gabriel started, the name falling out from his mouth before he even registered it.

“Good to see you again, Gabe,” the girl returned with a grin, emerald eyes sparkling in mirth as she transferred her gaze towards the brothers. “Enjoying Singapore so far?”

Dean opened his mouth to answer (most likely a curse or an insult of some sort), but Sam quickly cut in and replied before Dean could ruin any of their chances. “Um, yeah. It's... different.”

“No Apocalypses here,” Loki replied, grinning again as she leaped out of bed and made her way to sit beside Gabriel on his bed, leaning back with a shrug. “Makes me wonder why I never came here sooner.”

“You weren't?” Gabriel asked before he could help himself, and the archangel cursed himself as soon as the words left him.

Loki tilted her head sideways, pouting slightly. “Nope. Kinda regret it, actually. I was in Thailand before this, hanging around with the elephants.”

Gabriel saw the brothers exchanging one of their many wordless glances at that reply, neither of them certain what to make of such an answer; and truth be told, the archangel wasn't sure either. “Then you came here?”

“Yep.” The girl flashed a smile. “Been here ever since. But enough with the stories, that wasn't what I came here for.” She turned towards Gabriel properly now, the smile widening. “I've got the last of confirmations from the other guys. We're meeting up at two pm tomorrow.” Loki paused and glanced around in vague interest, blinking after a few moments as she turned back and added. “Be sure to bring along the angel. He's important.”

“He'll be coming,” Gabriel assured the other.

Loki nodded, accepting the assurance. “I'll be popping in to pick you guys up, so there's no need to worry. Just be sure to be in this room when I'm here tomorrow.”

“Got it,” Sam replied, with Dean nodding behind in agreement. The elder Winchester still hardly looked pleased with the way things were going, but at least he had enough sense to keep his trap shut. Even Gabriel wasn't stupid enough to shoot his mouth off at the god sitting beside him; he was well-aware of the things that Loki was capable of if she tried, and that was probably just the surface of her abilities.

“Excellent,” the girl returned, clapping her hands together and grinning. “I'll be seeing you guys later then.” And with that said she vanished, popping out from their sight in the blink of an eye.

Dean stared at the spot where Loki had been for a few seconds before making an annoyed sound. “You assholes really suck at manners.”

“Pot calling the kettle black,” Gabriel muttered back in return, pointedly ignoring the new round of death glares he got for that.

_He crashed violently back into reality, eyelids snapping open as Gabriel jolted up in bed and gasped, attempting to catch his breath as he heaved, chest rising and falling in a violent rhythm. The night was silent around him, painfully tranquil and doing little to soothe the harsh tumble of memories and dreams replaying in his mind._

_The archangel gulped, forcing himself to calmness as he put down the hand clenched in his hair. He could still feel himself shaking, the muscles in his body shivering with some unknown coldness, even though it was already well into the summer. Gabriel stared blankly at his palm, moments of his undoing flashing through his head and he could do nothing but let another helpless shudder pass through his very being._

_How long had it been since he ended up here? A few months, his mind told him, but yet in a way it felt like eternity. The new world had slammed painfully into him in the time he had been here, starting from the moment when he had woken up in the hospital with Lucifer staring down at him. Except that the person wasn't Lucifer, wasn't even the human meatsuit once known as Nick, it was Mark Pellegrino; he would later come to know the name. And as the doctors and nurses calmed him down from his sudden bout of hyperventilation, he learned he was not himself, not Gabriel but Richard Speight Jr. Without warning the world had changed on him, and there was nothing that Gabriel could do about it but to try and survive in it._

_So there he was, Gabriel the archangel and Loki the Trickster, now alone in the world as the one and only supernatural creature in this non-supernatural world. At first the freedom was like a release, something that he relished so much as he lived his life without a single shred of fear. He was the only one with power, the only being who had the ability to do anything and nobody at all could stop him even if they tried. He was the top of the top, the best out of everyone. Nobody could match up with him. Nobody could stay with him._

_Gabriel would only realize that much later when he came face to face with the human wearing Castiel's—wearing Jimmy Novak's face. Misha Collins, he heard the name being said but nothing else registered in his mind. He was at the top and he was the best; but most of all, he was alone. He was alone, and there was nobody he could turn to._

_So this was what true solitude felt like._

 

“Gabriel.”

The archangel stirred at the call of his name, consciousness drifting back to him slowly like a gentle wave. He felt softness of the mattress below him, the warmth of the sheets around him and the firmness of the pillow under his head. The world was dark beneath his eyelids, and Gabriel was content to keep it that way.

“Gabriel,” the voice called out his name again, and he heard the near-silent rustle of cloth next to him, the mattress suddenly dipping as a warm weight settled nearby. There was a pause before a hand rested on his shoulder, long fingers curling around his bicep as he was shaken. “Gabriel, wake up.”

Unable to ignore the insistent voice any longer, Gabriel made a frustrated noise and cracked his eye open, watching the world around him slowly sharpen from its initial fuzziness as he made out the figure of Castiel staring down at him, blue eyes unblinking. The archangel stared at Castiel for a moment, before he pulled out his arm to cast a glance at his watch; the digital screen winked back at him with the numbers 03:51. Gabriel quickly dropped his arm back down with a sigh and moved to sit up properly, fingers threading through his hair. He allowed himself a moment to sigh before speaking. “What do you want, Cas?”

There was a long pause before Castiel answered. “I wanted to talk.”

Gabriel gave the angel a completely disbelieving look, now wishing that he had just stayed asleep instead (not that he _really_ needed sleep and all that but, you know). “It’s nearly four in the morning, bro. Didn’t Dean teach you that sleep time means sleep time?” After spending a year with them the archangel figured that Castiel really should know better. Guess he had been expecting too much.

“I apologize,” was the angel’s response, and at least he did have the decency to look apologetic enough as he said that.

The archangel sighed once more. “Its fine,” he returned, shifting on the bed so that he would be more comfortable; he had a feeling that this was going to take a while. “So? What’s up?”

“How do you deal with it?”

The question came out from Castiel’s lips almost instantly, so sudden and strong that Gabriel couldn’t help but be caught unaware by it. He paused, looking at the angel while his mind slowly processed the question properly. “What?” Where had that even come from?

Castiel shifted slightly on the bed, lowering his gaze down to stare at the bed sheets rather than the archangel. “Being alone. How do you deal with it?”

“Excuse me?” Gabriel couldn’t help but ask, because was he really hearing this right? Castiel was asking him about—yeah, Gabriel really wasn’t going to go there. He was shameless most of the time, sure, but even he had some things he wasn’t going to touch even with a ten-foot pole in hand. This was one of them.

The angel looked up now, his blue gaze boring right into Gabriel and the archangel couldn’t bring himself to tear his gaze away from the sight of those helpless-looking eyes. He had always seen catching glimpses of those looks in these last few days, but right now, up so close and with Castiel’s question echoing in his ears, Gabriel couldn’t help but _see_ the true depths of that expression. Castiel, the little soldier who lived and died and rebelled against Heaven to side with humanity; he might be back in Heaven now, but Gabriel knew enough to understand that Castiel could never _truly_ be one with Heaven again. He had changed too much, transformed during his time with the Winchesters—he was much too different from the other angels. To Raphael and his lackeys he was a rebel who grew weak for humans, and to the ones that followed Castiel he was a leader favoured by their Father.

Of course, Gabriel knew enough to know that Cas was neither of those things. He was simply _Castiel_ —he was still the same angel born from his Father before the old man had up and vanished. He was still the same guy who used to awkwardly trail behind Gabriel across Heaven and the same angel who hovered around the edges of Hell out of nothing else but curiosity. He was still Castiel, only older and more learned, but deep inside he was still the same Castiel he once knew a lifetime ago.

The archangel sucked in a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Why are you asking me that, Cas? You were Falling yourself for a while; you should already know the feeling.”

“It's not that,” Castiel returned, an all-too audible bite in his voice. “Its...” he trailed off there, biting on his lower lip and glanced right back down at the bed sheets again. 

Gabriel had a good feeling that he knew what the angel was trying to say, but he wasn't going to talk about it until Castiel could. “What is it, Cas?” he prodded, letting himself shift closer towards the other.

“Being alone,” the angel replied, eyes still trained downwards and refusing to move. “Being... being different.”

The choice of words that Castiel used couldn't help but bring out a snort from Gabriel. “Different isn't really the word I'd use here, Cas.”

Castiel's eyes flashed once as the angel raised his head to glare at him. “You know what I mean, Gabriel,” he snapped out, voice rising just slightly, but enough to let the archangel know that this really wasn't something he should be making jokes about.

A sigh escaped Gabriel once again. “I'll be honest with you, Cas. I don't know either.”

Blue eyes widened in surprise at Gabriel's response, and Castiel had to blink at him a few times before the angel found his voice. “You... don't know?” he asked, voice dropping to a hushed whisper, as if almost afraid that the answer would slip out at any time.

Gabriel shrugged, a sympathetic look on his features. “I really don't.”

“Then how do you...?”

“Deal?” the archangel finished for him, tilting his own head as hazel eyes now bore back into Castiel. The angel fell silent, although the nod was all that Gabriel needed to understand a good load of things. Memories flashed in his mind, recollections of so many things that he had experienced in the countless years he had spent wandering the Earth under the guise of Loki. He had watched wars come and go, eras and kingdoms passing by in the blink of an eye, pagan gods rising and falling in power. Unlike the constants of Heaven and Hell the world had been nothing but an unstable, chaotic, ever-evolving mess—a mess that Gabriel ended up fighting for and dying for, because he chose humanity. The archangel sighed once more, dropping his gaze down as well and toyed with the bit of fabric under his palm. “I guess I just do, somehow.”

There was a pause, and then: “You are stronger than this, brother.”

Gabriel snapped his head back up, breath caught in his throat as he found himself staring right into Castiel's unflinching, intense stare. The angel now seemed all the more close to him, the intensity of that bright blue gaze making Gabriel almost retreat in surprise. Without thinking, the loaded question tumbled out from his lips in a single word. “What...?”

“You are stronger than this,” Castiel murmured, repeating himself, his gaze unyielding. “I know you to be much stronger, back home.”

“Not really my home so much these days, I think,” Gabriel returned, unable to properly keep out the venom in his voice. After everything—after Michael and Lucifer and the Apocalypse—Gabriel couldn't think of Heaven as his home; no, Heaven was the place where his greatest joys were also his greatest sorrows. It was the place where his worst memories resided in, unable to leave him for as long as he still existed. The end of the world might have been averted, but they were still alive, trapped in a cage and tormenting each other for all of eternity. Gabriel didn't even know if he could bring himself to conjure up that image.

Castiel shook his head. “You are still Gabriel,” he spoke again, determination in his words. “You are still the messenger of Heaven, no matter the things you have done as Loki. You are...” he trailed off, suddenly hesitant. Gabriel blinked at the sudden change, but remained silent for the few moments Castiel fell quiet until the angel found his voice and finished his words. “You are still my brother, Gabriel. That will not change.”

“Even after everything?” Gabriel tried to push, even though a part of him was just screaming in his head to _shut the fuck up_ and simply accept it. And Father, he wanted—he really wanted to, because why shouldn't he want this? But he had to be skeptical, had to be sure—had to see the other shoe, because as much as he was grateful to Castiel for his words, it couldn't erase the fact that he had seen the angel working with Crowley.

“Even after everything,” Castiel replied, pausing for another moment before suddenly adding on. “...I think I understand better now. About why you did that. Why you wanted Sam and Dean to say 'yes'.”

Gabriel swallowed down the lump in his throat, telling his heart to calm down and for himself to stop panicking so much. “Really.”

“I think,” the angel repeated himself, shrugging helplessly. “It gets... tiring. Being different.”

_Being alone._

The words were unspoken, but Gabriel could hear them as clear as day and he nodded, trying to ignore the pained throb of his heart and whatever constituted as a soul inside him. “I guess that's one way to put it.” Separated from the angels, never one with the pagans no matter how much he tried otherwise—it had been an existence that only burned darker inside him, the fire threatening to swallow him whole by the time the Winchesters brought on the near-Apocalypse. He had been tired, just so tired of his life, of having to hide from the pagans and the angels alike, and he simply wanted to stop hiding. He wanted—he just simply wanted it to be over.

“Gabriel.” And suddenly there was a hand over his own, Castiel's long fingers wrapped around his palm. It was a simple, brotherly touch, but yet the sheer gentleness of it nearly caused Gabriel to lose the tight control he had on his emotions. How long had it been since he had the luxury of something like this? Not since Kali, maybe. Gabriel had to stop himself, to tear his eyes away from the sight of entwined fingers and hands so that he wouldn't let his emotions get the better of him.

—except then Castiel was moving, a warm hand cupping his jaw and Gabriel was forced to look up into the angel's blue eyes, to see the silent determination and passion and strength that he was attempting to muster out for the both of them, even when Castiel himself was lost, perhaps even more lost than he was. And wasn't that the most ironic thing ever? Both of them deciding to side with the Winchesters—and ended up paying the biggest price for that decision. Saving them, helping them, and then dying for them.

“Those bozos had better be glad that we're with them,” Gabriel muttered darkly, although there was no trace of venom in his words.

The corners of Castiel's lips curled upwards in response, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “I am glad that you are here, brother.”

Brother. Somebody who he could trust, someone who he could trust his back to. Something that Gabriel never had, not since he made the decision to skip out of heaven and live out his life as Loki the Trickster. For all the freedom it gave him, his existence had also been incredibly lonely. Indeed, Gabriel had carved out his own little corner of the world—a little corner of the world meant solely for him and for nobody else, and that was how things had been for the past Father-only-knew how long. 

Brother. Gabriel had so wanted to believe and hold onto that idea, but the mind was a traitorous thing, and memories of Castiel's meeting with Crowley flashed in his mind. Gabriel did wish he could trust Castiel and rely on the angel to guard his back, but after what he had seen, could he even bring himself to summon that much courage? To let Castiel inside his little circle despite all that he had seen and heard?

“Cas, I—” Gabriel started, but stopped the moment Castiel leaned forward to erase the few inches of space between them, and pressed their lips together. The archangel instantly froze on the spot, blood turning into ice and Gabriel could have sworn that his heart had stopped pumping for a second. It wasn't even anything _close_ to the kisses that Gabriel could really lay on people—wet and deep and filthy—but somehow this simple, gentle action of the pressing of their chapped lips felt like much more than anything else that he had ever known in his countless years of existence. Something pulsed inside him, throbbing warmly, and without thinking Gabriel closed his eyes and exhaled shakily against the angel's lips.

 _Gabriel,_ he heard Castiel's voice in his mind as the lesser angel shifted, now pressing their foreheads together rather than their lips but the gesture was no less tender, no less caring. Hands came up and pressed warmly against the sides of his face, and the archangel felt threads of Castiel's grace now reaching towards him, called out by the Grace within him. It washed across and over him, like a gentle wave and Gabriel couldn't help but find himself caught adrift by the tenderness. A sob nearly choked out from the back of his throat when Castiel murmured against his lips, the gentleness of the action near-painful. “You have suffered so much, brother.”

“Castiel—” Gabriel tried to start, eyes opening, but the angel shook his head and pressed the tip of his thumb against his lower lip to hush the archangel. The gesture would have been insulting in other circumstances, but now Gabriel's heart could only swell up and lurch at the gentleness of the action.

“Every time I reach inside, brother, I feel your Grace crying out,” Castiel spoke quietly, his voice almost a whisper. “I feel your hurt and your pain and the ache that nothing physical can cure. I feel it as though it comes from myself, and I feel how much it hurts you inside.” The angel paused, and Gabriel saw the flare of Grace behind the other's blue eyes, the spark that reached out and connected them together in this moment of odd serenity. Castiel's hands left him, drawing away just as the angel himself withdrew, and Gabriel felt the pang of disappointment that came with the loss of such warmth.

Gabriel closed his eyes again to black out the world around him, attempting to recompose himself and draw himself back in. That had been—that had been much too intense, too close to what he wasn’t equipped to handle now. After Kali, intimacy had never really worked well for him. The archangel sucked in a deep breath, eyes opening to look at the figure of Castiel sitting before him with an expression on his face that now meant so much more. Licking suddenly dry lips, Gabriel breathed out loudly through his nose before he could let himself speak. “Castiel.”

“Gabriel.” The response was quiet and murmured, near-silence rushing in its wake. Outside the window the skyline continued to sparkle with the flashes of countless lights, the orange glow of street lights casting the skies into a deep orange-brown burn of smoldering flames.

The archangel opened his mouth, starting to speak, but then stopped and snapped his jaw shut. He kept quiet for a while longer before he finally talked. “We'll talk about this later, Cas.” He wasn't in any mood to handle this now, not right now—not like this. It was too much.

Castiel only dipped his head in acknowledgement, the words leaving him in a rumble. “I understand.”

Gabriel tried to speak again, but the next time he blinked, Castiel had already vanished with the echo of rustling wings resounding in the silence of the room. The archangel stared for a moment before he sighed and dropped himself back to the bed, ignoring the bright red flash of 04:27 from the digital clock on the bedside table as he closed his eyes and willed himself back into the land of sleep.


	8. seventh act

**VII: seventh act—satellite orbit.**

Sleep, unsurprisingly, did not come easily to Gabriel after what had transpired, and the archangel was pretty certain it had taken a good hour or two before he did drift off—at the very least it would explain the insistent knocking on his door that was dragging him back into consciousness.

“I'm _coming_ ,” he snapped out unhappily as he dragged himself out of bed, tossing away the sheets covering his body and shuddered at the full-body shiver that had grabbed hold of him the moment his feet touched the floor. The knocks sounded again, and Gabriel let out an annoyed huff, shaking out the last of his post-sleep fuzziness and moved to answer the door, already rolling his eyes even before the sight of Dean Winchester's pissed off face greeted him.

It figured that Dean was the first thing he had to see in the morning.

“Just a bright ball of sunshine now, aren't you Deano?”

The human only glared back at him, green eyes narrowing at Gabriel as he snapped out pointedly. “Its _noon_ , you asshole.”

Gabriel blinked in surprise at the words, glancing at his watch just to be sure that Dean wasn't lying; true enough, it was already past noon. The archangel dropped his wrist back down, rising his eyes back to Dean as he shrugged. “I'm still a recovering patient. Can't help but rest on such a comfortable bed.”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes in a clear gesture of disbelief. “Whatever. Just get ready or something, Sam and I are gonna call up Cas soon.”

Castiel. The mere mention of the angel's name caused Gabriel's composure to crack just a little, witty retort already dying in his throat as the archangel paused entirely. Just earlier this morning he had been talking with the angel in question, doubt and uncertainty clashing against his desires to reach out. If anything, the events had illuminated many things for Gabriel... in more ways than one, too.

Quickly noticing the slip in Gabriel's usual demeanour Dean frowned, eyes narrowing while he called out cautiously. “...Gabriel?”

“Huh?” Gabriel jerked his head back towards the human, blinking owlishly at him for a second before the memory clicked back in his mind. “Oh, right. Sure thing. I'll be ready in about twenty.”

“We'll be back then,” Dean grunted back, quickly making a move now that his business was settled. Gabriel moved to grab his stuff for a bath, but Dean paused at the door and turned back to the archangel. “Gabriel!”

The archangel glanced up, tilting his head in confusion. “What?”

Dean's eyes flickered down and then back up, and then the man scowled. “Make sure to put on some goddamned pants.”

Gabriel looked down to see the red and pink polka-dotted boxers that he was wearing before he glanced back up and grinned. “No worries Deano. I'm not going to flash anything to your precious Cas.”

There was a brief pause on Dean's end with that comment and the human stared, looking at Gabriel for a moment longer before he shook his head and muttered something unintelligible, slamming the door shut behind him as he moved out. Gabriel grinned again.

Sometimes, he really was just too easy.

One hour later once Gabriel was done showering and calling up more room service for lunch (that was finished up quickly this time as their appointment was now running close), the brothers called upon Castiel who arrived in the usual beat of wings. Gabriel pointedly tried not to stare at the angel as Cas instantly set his gaze on the Winchesters, speaking. “Is it time?”

“Yep,” Loki’s voice cut in smoothly before Dean could even reply, and the four men turned towards Loki who was currently leaning against the door of their room. Unlike the ratty clothes she was wearing before the teenager was now donned in an all-out ensemble of black—black jeans, black sport shoes, black t-shirt complete with black jacket. Her hair was still green though, the colour putting up a violent contrast that Loki didn’t seem to bother about. The girl pushed herself off the wall and stepped closer towards the foursome, smiling as she added on. “Right on cue, even.”

Dean inched back just a little as Loki approached them, green eyes trained warily on the girl. “We going now?”

Loki rolled her eyes. “Duh. Why else would I be here?”

“Can't we just walk there?” Looks like somebody had _something_ against being instantly transported around.

“Too lazy,” the girl returned casually, but the smile on her face wasn't exactly very kind when she got to Dean and laid a hand on his shoulder. The elder Winchester stilled, looking very much like a deer in headlights and his eyes darted towards Sam in an unspoken plea help.

Sam made a helpless gesture of his own, a forced smile on his face as Loki's voice piped up beside them once more, the girl grinning as she spoke. “Alright, folks, you'd better hold on tight coz' we’re going to the Esplanade.”

“The what—” Dean began, but couldn’t say anything more than that before Loki snapped her fingers (it was a habit thing, really, but Gabriel couldn’t help but grin when she did that) and instantly the five were transported to what Gabriel quickly made out to be a Haagen-Dazs outlet—the smell of its fine ice-cream never fooled his senses.

Dean was too busy cursing under his breath and being supported by Castiel after having been forcibly transported again, while Sam on the other hand saw the sign that was hanging from the entrance they were now standing in front of, frowning and sounding rather disbelieving. “We’re meeting at Haagen-Dazs?”

“I always liked their ice-cream,” was the only thing that Loki said (prompting another amused grin from Gabriel as Dean glared daggers again, while Castiel simply held the human tighter and went “Dean” in that warning tone of his) as she stepped away from them and into the establishment, now idly waving them off. “Feel free to grab some ice-cream for yourself and get comfy, there’s still about ten minutes before we start.” That said, the girl promptly made a beeline towards the counter where a handful of people, presumably gods, were already gathered.

All of them entered the store soon enough, and Sam glanced around the area once Loki had left them to their own devices, both brothers now noticing just how many _gods_ were packed into this place. Some of them (like Ganesh who was at the corner sulking or something, and Baldur who was chatting somewhat amiably with Odin) most likely remembered from the incident at Elysian Fields—most of them though, Gabriel was pretty sure they never even heard of before, although the same could be said for himself; there were a bunch of gods he wasn’t aware still even existed. Loki really had outdone herself this time.

“Some turnout,” Sam started, blinking again as he turned around to lay eyes on Loki, who was finally on her turn and now currently ordering ice-cream from the rather overwhelmed staff counter. “For one god, she sure pulls a lot of weight.”

Gabriel bit his lip—he hadn’t exactly explained to them who and what Loki _really_ was. “It’s more of the fact that they respect her, Sam. She’s the Trickster.”

Castiel's eyes instantly went wide at the mention, clearly knowing just what it was that Gabriel had spoken of; the Winchesters on the other hand did not and turned to look at the archangel with a fair amount of confusion, Dean arching up one eyebrow. “Yeah, she’s filling in for you; said so herself, remember?”

“That was—” he started, scowling a bit now as he ran a hand through his hair. He really should have explained this sooner. “Yeah, that; I’m _just_ Loki, just one pagan god from the Norse Pantheon. She’s different—she’s _the Trickster_.”

Sam gave Gabriel a cautious look, nodding slowly. “O… kay. So she’s another Trickster.”

“No, Sam, you don’t understand,” Gabriel returned, insistence strong in his voice. “She—Loki—she isn’t _just_ Loki. She’s _the_ Trickster; she’s Loki just as she’s also Anansi and Coyote and Crow. Every god and demigod and being that follows the Trickster’s law comes from her. She’s _powerful_ , Sam, powerful in ways even I can’t begin to imagine.” The archangel turned towards the almost weak-looking teenager, who now sat at her table enjoying her ice-cream, biting his lip once more. “If she wanted to, she could just twist the reality of this world with a snap of her fingers. There’s a reason why everyone’s so cautious of her.” He paused, sucking in a breath and letting it out as he finished his explanation. “She’s… she’s a literal wildcard.”

Sam, at least, finally seemed to get the depth of Gabriel’s explanation (judging by the widening of his eyes), but Dean himself wasn’t too impressed. The elder Winchester crossed his arms and gave the teenager a brief glare before transferring his gaze over to Gabriel. “So what, she’s like… some God _God_ or something? Like, your dad-level God?”

“She is the one who defies the Father,” Castiel's voice cut in then, interrupting Gabriel's would be answer and now the brothers shifted their gaze to the angel—the angel who was now looking back at Gabriel, and the archangel could feel a fair amount of distrust stemming from Castiel, for it had always been told to all of them that the Trickster should never be trusted. “She is the rulebreaker, the interloper. She brings destruction to His Creation and chaos to order.” Castiel's blue eyes flashed dangerously now, as he sought out the girl amongst the crowd. “She is never to be trusted.”

Gabriel sighed, rubbing the palm of his hand against his face. “That was a long time ago, Castiel. Things change.”

Castiel's eyes flashed once more, a sign of his growing frustration. “You would speak for the Trickster?”

“I speak for what I have seen, Cas,” the archangel retorted, his own gaze boring into Castiel's. “She took me in when I had nowhere to go, gave me the title of Loki and the freedom to live under her rules. I owe her this much, at the very least.” He lowered his hand and clenched his jaw, keeping his sights on the angel. “Things change, bro. I mean, you stopped the Apocalypse. That alone should have proven something to you.”

The angel glared at Gabriel for a few more moments before he finally relented, glancing away. “I do not trust her, but I will trust your word.” It was hard to ignore the weight of what those words carried, but there wasn't much else that Gabriel could do in this matter. The archangel let out a sigh and nodded himself, just mostly glad that this had been resolved quickly.

“So,” Dean started again, eyebrow arched up once more as he looked between the two angels with a skeptical look that spoke of his own disbelief. “If the girl's that powerful, why can’t she just snap her fingers and make things better?”

“Because that’d be messing up the system,” came the drawl from behind them, and the trio jumped as the girl walked into the space between the three of them, busy lapping up chocolate ice-cream from her cone as emerald eyes blinked at them. “There’s a balance to everything, you know. The angels started this mess, so it’s the angels who need to finish it and wipe up the crap behind them. Kali and Baldur and the others, they’re just here to help speed up the process.”

“Then why are you helping?” Dean snapped as he faced the girl, while both Sam and Gabriel winced at the bluntness of the other’s question, the archangel even more so. Why, oh why, did he have to deal with idiots like these?

Rather than being insulted though, the girl only seemed amused at the retort, grinning toothily as she looked at Gabriel. “Have I mentioned how much I like him?”

“Once or twice,” Gabriel replied sort-of meekly, more glad for the fact that Dean wasn’t banished into orbit or something, because the Trickster very well _could_ if she wanted to.

“Awesome.” The girl looked back at Dean, smiling sharply like a knife, before grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him with her to settle at a nearby, unoccupied table. Without much of a choice, both Sam and Gabriel followed (with Castiel trailing cautiously behind), settling down beside Dean once Loki had sat down herself.

There was a terse moment as silence fell on the group, only interrupted by loud slurps as Loki continued to lick the ice-cream from the cone she had in hand. The other three only gave each other rather uncertain looks for a bit (Castiel was still half-glaring at her) before Gabriel broke said silence, cautiously starting to speak up. “Uh, Loki…?”

“Hm?” the girl started as she looked up at the archangel, blinking after that. “Oh! Right.” She looked over to Dean, casually having her gaze past Castiel along the way, lowering her cone and giving the elder Winchester a quizzical look. “What was the question again?”

“Um,” Sam was the one who spoke up now, deciding to cut in before Dean’s bluntness and sarcasm got the best of them—a very good plan, in Gabriel’s opinion. “Dean was just wondering why you’re deciding to only help us now, since you’re powerful and all.”

“Gabe asked, for one,” Loki returned, shrugging. “And I like him, and with the stunt he pulled during the Apocalypse I figured I owed him something as compensation. For another, I really like this world, and if Purgatory opens up to release all those souls and whatever crap it still has inside, the nature of this world would get seriously screwed, and then it wouldn’t be fun anymore. Monsters really can only think so much before their bestial side gets the best of them.” She added the last part in a whisper, although everybody could hear what the girl had just said anyway.

“…right,” the younger Winchester started slowly as Loki returned to her ice-cream, happily lapping it up again. “Well, we’re just… really glad that you’re helping us out like this. Um. Thanks.”

“No prob.” Loki grinned once more, lips smeared with melted ice-cream before she licked it away. “And just so you know, you’re always welcome to pay me a visit after this.”

“We’ll think about it,” Sam went with a small, almost shaky smile, and Dean (thank Father) managed to keep his snort quiet this time.

Castiel, on the other hand, was a completely different story. “What are your intentions, Trickster?” he all but demanded, the flash of his blue eyes giving out a dangerous warning.

Loki only sighed, idly rolling her head around to the sound of popping cricks in her neck. “I liked you better when you didn't know me.”

“You would not do this out of goodwill,” the angel continued, voice dropping dangerously as he narrowed his eyes at her. “What are your plans?”

“None,” the girl returned, now rolling her eyes. “Look, Cas, just coz' you're lording it over some angels up there doesn't give you the right to ask me stupid questions. Raphael's still got you beat in that little war you guys are having.”

“If Raphael wins—” Castiel started, but Loki was already waving her hand to cut him off.

“Rocks fall, everybody dies, blah blah blah. Yes, Constantine, I already know,” the Trickster sighed once more, finishing up the rest of her ice-cream and tossing the napkin down on the table. “Look, I don't want Raphael to win any more than you do, but it's not as if your own track record has been stellar lately.”

The Winchesters exchanged glances while Gabriel felt his body tensing up, realization settling in his mind. Of course she would know, but was she really—? “Loki.”

“You guys know what you did,” the girl smoothly finished her words, prompting Gabriel to shut up and look over at Castiel, whose expression had hardened, and he could see the angel's hands clenched into tight fists, fingers gripping the material of Jimmy Novak's suit pants. His gaze was fixed on Loki, who now merely made another face at the angel and shrugged, pretty unruffled by the other's harsh gaze. “Gabriel asked me to help you and I agreed, but if you're not going to accept the aid I offer then there's not much I can do about it.” She paused to bring out a lollipop into existence from her hand, busying herself with undoing the wrapper as she finished up what she wanted to say. “The ball's in your court, angel.”

“Look, Cas—” Gabriel started, drawing the other's attention to him while the brothers continued to look on this entire situation. He looked at Castiel's blue eyes and saw the confused swirl of emotions in there, clamping down on his sigh as Gabriel went on speaking. “I know you don't trust her, which I understand, but just—just trust me, alright? She really wants to help, and it’s not like there's much to lose at this point.” The archangel forced a small smile on his face. “Right?”

“Yeah, Cas,” Sam spoke up after him, a surprising gesture, and said surprise showed on Gabriel's face as the archangel swiveled his head around to stare at the human. The younger Winchester smiled slightly in return before he continued. “I mean, if they're offering help... no point refusing, right? What's the worst that could happen?”

Castiel eyed Sam cautiously at those words, as if not really certain that he had heard the other correctly. Gabriel himself stilled, a bout of anxiety washing over him as the archangel glanced between the younger human and the younger angel, eventually settling his gaze at Loki. The Trickster looked about as concerned as ever, which was pretty much not concerned at all, and the girl shrugged once more, shoulders rolling. “Don’t look at me; Cas’ the one making the decision here.”

There was a longer pause now, one that continued to stretch on for a time long enough for Gabriel to start feeling uncomfortable with it as he fidgeted slightly and watched Castiel until the angel finally let out a breath, eyes closing. “If Gabriel trusts her, then I will trust his word,” he said, and in that instant the archangel felt himself sagging, relief overtaking his being and washing over his mind.

Dean, however, only clenched his jaw and kept his gaze trained on Cas, voice curt as he spoke. “That’s great, Cas,” he muttered, and one would have to be an idiot to not see that there was something wrong in the way Dean was speaking. Gabriel frowned and so did Sam, but Dean didn’t add on anything and only repeated himself. “Really great.”

Loki only let out a satisfied huff of amusement and clapped her hands together, green eyes sparkling. “Alright, now that this little drama fest is over, let’s start the meeting.” She paused to look over at Gabriel, a smile crossing her face as she added. “We’ve got a truckload of things to talk about.”

Five minutes later the room had been changed into a setting uncomfortably similar to the one at Elysian Fields (although this time the Winchesters were more of guests, rather than being held against their will, and all four of them were settled behind Loki), and Gabriel did his best not to show the sheer amount of awkwardness that he was feeling as the archangel shifted in his seat, casting his gaze across the numerous other pagans sitting in the room. Some of them were looking back at him, but all of them quickly turned their attention to Loki the moment the girl stood up from her seat and cleared her throat.

“Alright, peeps,” she started, her voice oddly upbeat. “We’ll be starting the meeting now. I trust all of you know why you’re here right now?” Gabriel watched the Trickster’s sharp eyes darting across the room, glancing at each of the gods and seeing them all murmuring with each other. There were no violent outbursts however, and after a few more moments of quiet muttering Loki smiled and laced her fingers together. “Nice to see we’re all on the same page. So, first of all—”

A loud snort interrupted Loki’s words then, and the girl paused for a second to see who it was before she sighed and spoke. “Yes, Fenrir?”

Gabriel watched as Fenrir stood up, brown hair mixed with streaks of dark purple and crimson gleaming under the lights as the wolf-god turned to fix narrowed blue eyes at the girl, who barely even flinched at the harsh look that was on Fenrir’s face or the snappy tone he spoke with. “We wish to know your real reasons, Trickster,” he growled out, canines gleaming through with every move of his jaw. “The reason why you have gathered so many of us here, for the first time in countless years, to stand before the angel who had tricked us all.” Fenrir’s eyes shifted towards Gabriel when he said that, and the archangel gulped down the lump rapidly forming in his throat.

Things did not get easier when another voice chimed in—Sleipnir—and Gabriel saw him standing up, wild eyes of green fixed on the archangel as well, as the horse-god flexed his giant human form. “He lived with us, dined with us and drank with us. We imparted to him our secrets and knowledge and end up being betrayed instead.” Sleipnir’s nostrils flared dangerously, and beside him Gabriel could hear Dean mutter a few appropriate curses under his breath, although none of them would have been particularly helpful in this context.

Loki sighed once more, exasperation evident in her voice, but the girl replied anyway. “Gabriel didn’t betray anyone, Sleipnir. He never gave anything away. I would have known if he did.”

“But he is still an angel,” a third voice chimed in, not wholly recognizable to Gabriel, and it was only when the figure stood when it clicked. _Amaterasu_ , he thought, blinking at the brilliant, fiery robes that hid the goddess’s lithe form as the woman swept her dark eyes towards him, her gaze lingering for a moment before turning back towards Loki and speaking on. “He masqueraded as one of your subjects and lived under your nose so blatantly. Even if you say he did not betray us, does he not deserve punishment for that?”

“For what?” the Trickster returned, arching up an eyebrow. “He is under my law because _I let him be so_ , Amaterasu. Would he have managed to keep himself hidden for so long unless I allowed it? You can ask Susano-o to know better.” The girl paused and took a breath before finishing her reply. “Nothing escapes from my sight, Amaterasu- _ōmikami_ , especially when it’s under my domain.”

There was a tense pause after those words, but eventually Amaterasu accepted the words with a curt nod and moved to sit back down, Fenrir and Sleipnir following behind. Loki threw another glance across the room, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket and speaking. “Well? Any other violent objections I need to hear from you guys?”

A long silence now settled, one that dragged on for long enough for Loki to deem it an answer and open her mouth to speak up again, but right before she did an all-too familiar voice sounded in Gabriel’s ears. “I wish to speak.”

Sam and Dean jerked a little next to him, clearly uncomfortable with the sight of Kali standing up and now making her way up closer to Loki, closer to where all of them were. Castiel tensed—an instinctive reaction—while Gabriel steeled himself and only hoped that nothing too awkward was going to happen now. Dealing with his million and one relationship problems with Kali wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do anytime soon, impending Apocalypse or not.

Loki gave the Hindu goddess a brief glance before nodding, gesturing with one hand. “Sure thing, Kali. Speak your mind.”

Kali nodded back, only pausing to give Gabriel a fleeting look before she turned around and faced the other pagan gods, addressing them. “Just roughly two or so years ago, the Judeo-Christian Apocalypse threatened to bring us all to ruin,” she began, her voice resounding loud and clear across the room. “As you know, we tried to fight. To battle. To put blood against blood and end things in violence.” The goddess paused, sweeping her eyes across the room and Gabriel followed her gaze to catch sight of good old Baldur in the seat next to where Kali had been sitting; it looked like they were still together.

“It is not a secret that Sam and Dean Winchester were the centre of it all,” she intoned, one hand sweeping towards where the brothers were sitting as both Sam and Dean jumped, tensing out of instinct. Kali turned her head around to look at the two humans, unspoken words flashing in her eyes before she looked back, continuing. “The brothers were the vessels of Lucifer and Michael respectively, and if they wanted it they could have allowed the end of the world to happen at any time. But yet—” She stopped again, sucking in a deep breath, and Gabriel could guess what was it that Kali was trying to do now—she did owe them, after all, for Elysian Fields. Kali was a goddess who always kept to her promises, even if she disliked them. “—but yet they did not give in. They fought against what had been set in stone for them, they fought for themselves. And in doing so, they protected this world. Now, once again, this world is on the edge of destruction, set off by the danger of Purgatory.” Kali dropped her arm, swivelling her head across the length of the room to gaze at each of the gods and finished her speech. “Considering that they have worked so hard to save this world, I would think it would be adequate to believe that they have no intention of putting it in danger.”

Murmurs instantly broke out amongst the gods the moment Kali finished speaking, but the Hindu goddess paid no attention to them and with a final bow to Loki, made her way back to the seat. Gabriel watched her going all the way back, eyeing the hand Baldur laid on her shoulder and the small smiles they gave to each other. 

Once upon a time, he would have been in Baldur’s seat.

Gabriel closed his eyes and willed the memories away, a sigh escaping him. Once, perhaps, he could have almost seen the pagans as his family. But more than the Trickster he was supposed to be, Gabriel was who he truly was, first and foremost. No matter how he ran and how he hid, that one truth would forever stick with him. An angel who deserted Heaven and a pagan who wasn’t truly a pagan—Gabriel wasn’t too certain where that exactly put him in Dad’s eyes.

Loki’s sudden clapping put a halt on his train of thoughts, and Gabriel blinked, jerking his head up to glance at the girl. The smile that crossed the Trickster’s face put her expression close to triumphant as she spoke. “All very good points there, Kali, thank you.” Brushing out the hair that covered her eyes, she picked up after the goddess. “You heard her, folks—Sam and Dean here risked everything to make sure we all are still in one piece in this world, so take a rain check and think about it. You guys want to sit here and continue to piss in each other’s territory, or are you going to protect this world so that you can continue your pissing matches?” She raised a hand to tap a finger against her skull in a pointed gesture and added. “Just think about it, guys.”

The pagan gods glanced at each other once more, unspoken words sent through each of their gazes. A few of them were rather prominently fixed on Gabriel, and the intensity made the archangel fidget in his seat, hazel eyes raised to look towards the girl lounging on the big fat armchair she had conjured up for herself, absently helping herself to a second serving of ice-cream. A tap on his shoulder made him turn back towards the one who had called for his attention—Sam, complete with the questioning look on his face. “What happens now?” the younger human asked, jerking his head towards the crowd for emphasis.

“Now?” the archangel returned, turning his head back to the other pagans and narrowing his eyes at them. “Now, we wait.”

“Just what we needed,” Dean muttered under his breath and with a roll of his eyes, although Gabriel really couldn't blame him. If there was one thing that the pagans were good at, it was the waiting game. So they would wait. Wait until they had an answer; wait until they made their decision. It was all they could really do right now.

Fortunately, they didn't seem to need to wait too long. In about ten minutes the pagans had all settled back down, and a moment passed before another figure stood up—one that Gabriel recognized now, from the ashen-white hair to the baggy outfit of blues and whites that the boyish-looking man wore on his form. At first glance he would have almost looked like a teenager, but the steel blue-grey eyes that only belonged to the master of strings would have instantly showed his age and power. Orpheus was a king in his own right, the frostiness in his expression only coming from one who ruled from high.

“Before we make a true decision,” he started, and it was impossible to not hear the authority and might that boomed in his ancient voice. Gabriel straightened up in his seat along with Sam, Dean and Castiel, all of them listening intently to the words of Orpheus. “We wish to ask one question of the Trickster.”

Loki finished up the last of the ice-cream cone in her hand before flickering her green eyes and looking up at the god, shifting around to sit up properly in her chair. She raised her head, inclining it to the side and then spent the next few seconds eyeing Orpheus with a critical look. She relented once the seconds passed, acknowledging the request with a small nod. “Speak, Orpheus.”

Orpheus nodded in return, steel blue eyes unblinking as he turned to the crowd, white hair shifting with every turn of his head. “It is not a secret among us here who your true identity is,” he went, giving a glance at the Trickster who acknowledged the god's words with an incline of her head. Gabriel watched as Loki propped her head up on a fist, elbows pressing against the arm rest of the couch as she watched the events unfolding through sharp green eyes. Orpheus seemed to pay the look no mind as he went on speaking. “The interloper, the one who interferes. The Serpent, the Trickster, the rulebreaker. _Ha Satan._ The Adversary.”

“Isn't Lucifer supposed to be The Adversary?” inquired Sam softly beside him, his voice a mutter as the human frowned.

Gabriel snorted quietly. “Please, Sam. He's an angel—or at least, he used to be. How can he be The Adversary when he's already something else?” Despite the words it was hard to not feel the sting in what he had said, the irony of his answer. Lucifer, as much as he was the devil, was still his brother, once upon a time. He had rebelled and Fallen and now was locked back in his cage—but the devil was still one of his kind, and that fact couldn't be erased, same as the fact that Michael was with the cage, with him now, and Raphael was set on bringing back the end of the world. All of his brothers, now split apart and leaving their brotherhood in tatters. The days back in Heaven almost seemed like a dream now.

“...I guess that makes sense,” Sam muttered after a pause, a soft sigh escaping him as the human withdrew back into his seat. Gabriel could just hear that giant brain of his working, although Orpheus's voice easily overlapped the sound of Sam's thinking.

“You are the god that would not be, the almost-God,” he heard Orpheus speak, grandiose speech never faltering. “Cast down to the humans when they left Eden, you have walked this planet even before any of us existed. Save the angels, of course,” the god added the last part, giving acknowledging looks to both Gabriel and Castiel as he said it. The archangel nodded back in turn and nudged Castiel to do the same; last thing anybody needed now was to piss off the one line of help they had. Seemingly satisfied, Orpheus nodded back and returned to his speech. “All these years you have walked this earth, Trickster, and you have never once raised a finger to interfere in the affairs of the humans, not even when the Judeo-Christian Apocalypse loomed over two years ago.” He looked back to Loki, eyes narrowing. “So tell us now, Trickster—why now? Why, after everything, are you finally raising your finger? We desire to know the reason behind your choice.”

Silence reigned abruptly after Orpheus's words, and every pagan god and goddess now looked to Loki who stayed strangely quiet. The girl's eyes were closed, but Gabriel could still sense her breathing deeply, almost as if in sleep. He would have believed it, if he didn’t know for a fact that the Trickster never slept. 

Eventually, though, the Trickster opened her eyes, her green irises sparkling with an odd clarity and Loki straightened, suddenly carrying herself very differently, in a way that spoke of experience and power. This, Gabriel knew, was just a flash of the true Trickster she really was—the nameless god, the true Adversary. He watched the girl blink once, then twice, and she opened her mouth to speak, power resonating in every syllable. “There are many reasons,” she began, sweeping a glance to the room to ensure that she had everybody's attention. “And some of them I will not speak of. But know this—Gabriel is and has always been one of my subjects. Under me he is Loki, and anybody who follows the Trickster's rule will be subjected to my law. I agreed to aid him and his companions because he is a subject I admire, a subject who I respect. He gave his life and put himself against his brother, and I think he deserves the respect of that action.”

“Gabriel,” Castiel started, his voice low, but the archangel didn't hear any of it. His attention was focused on Loki, his own hazel eyes wide in surprise at the words that the Trickster was speaking.

“How many of you are able to fight against your brother? Your kin? Your family?” Loki's green eyes were blazing with ancient power, irises flaring under the shades of her bangs. “How many of you are willing to pick up your weapon and fight solely for what you believe? Gabriel had that courage, a courage that I cannot look away from. And that courage is also in the Winchesters and in Castiel over there.” 

The angel in question made a start, surprised as well at the mention of his name. Sam and Dean looked visibly shaken, too, all their eyes fixed onto the girl who now stood up from her seat and cast her gaze on the crowd of gods. “The four of them found their courage to fight against their destiny, and they tore up the script and burned the pages right up.” A grin made its way to Loki's face, casting the Trickster's expression into a different light. “They chose free will and humanity and battled for it, and each and every one of you owes your existence to them. So, now, tell me this—” Her voice dropped lower, speaking in clipped tones now as she finished. “Are you all so spineless as to not repay your debt to them, or will you stand up and ensure that your believers and existence will not be threatened again?”

A hushed silence now settled in the room as the echoes of the Trickster's last words faded, and every one of the gods stayed quiet, eyes not even moving. Gabriel, too, found himself unable to say anything, stunned at the weight of Loki's words. Normally he could have easily shrugged off such things, but when it came from the Trickster herself... what could he say to that?

“They are the ones who chose humanity, and He has allowed this to pass,” Loki said, her voice quieter but still imbued with the fierce determination that had been present earlier. “And so if He indeed has allowed this so, then I wish to do whatever is in my power to keep this tender peace going.” She stared at the room again, her jaw set. “So, you may choose to help or you may choose to keep to yourselves, but know that the moment you interfere is the moment I _will_ end you and your followers, no matter how many of them there are.”

Orpheus spoke up again, a deep-sated amusement within his voice. “You need not resort to such measures, Trickster,” he replied, a small smile on his face. “Indeed, it is a fact that we owe the Winchesters for what they have done.” To Gabriel's astonishment, he saw the master of strings bowing his head and watched as the other gods followed suit, paying all of them tribute. “For what they did two years ago, now we return the favour to them. I cannot speak for those who are not here, but for those who _are_ in this room—know that we will aid in your struggle, for you as well as for ourselves.”

It was almost too good to be true; Gabriel's eyes were as big as saucers as he gazed at the many gods who were now pledging their help to him and to them, and he saw both Sam and Dean being as weirded out as he was. Even Castiel was taken aback, sitting ramrod straight in his seat, as his blue eyes drank in the sight that lay before them. It was so hard to believe that now suddenly there was hope, now there was a way, rather than the hopelessness they had all felt just one week ago. It made Gabriel's heart swell with a flare of hope.

Without thinking twice he reached out to Castiel through their Grace, touching each other so that the angel could feel his joy, his delight, his gratitude and his hope. _See, bro? Told you we could do it._

Castiel sent back an acknowledgment through their link, and Gabriel couldn't help but smile. Finally, now, something was starting to go right for them.

And of course, when things were actually starting to go right, it always seemed to be the cue for the other shoe to drop. Gabriel found out about that the hard way, moments later when Loki got the pagans to start discussing and she took the archangel aside from his other three companions and started her words with “There’s a condition, Gabe.”

Knowing the nature and power of the Trickster, Gabriel didn’t even need a moment to guess what the girl was speaking about. Still, he couldn’t just give up his brother like this, even though he knew that it was probably the dumbest course of action he could take. “What condition?” he returned, although he failed to keep his gaze on the girl and was soon looking down at the ground.

He heard the Trickster let out a tightly-controlled breath, the hand that she had curled up in the sleeve of his clothes curling up tighter. “Don’t make me do this, Gabriel. You know what I’m talking about.”

“Loki—” he started, but the girl cut in before Gabriel could say anything else.

“Don’t _start,_ ” she snapped back, voice rising for just a moment before she caught herself and instantly fell silent. Her gaze remained unerringly fixed on Gabriel, green eyes staring at the archangel with an intensity that could put Castiel’s to shame. “I am treading a very fine line here by doing this, so I expect for you to give me the respect to at least fucking _listen_.” Her tone was quivering, shaking between absolute anger and painful disappointment as her fists trembled. 

Gabriel remained silent, his own hazel eyes still refusing to look up at the myriad of expressions he knew he’d be able to see on the Trickster’s face. His head was still bowed, gaze settled between the floor and the knobs of Loki’s wrist shifting under the skin of the vessel she was wearing as the Trickster leaned forward, growling out her next words. “Stop that idiot angel brother of your before it’s too late, Gabe. Stop him and the deal he has with the King of Hell. It’s not going to end well.”

The archangel bit on his lower lip, trying very hard to ignore the swirl of emotions that swelled in his gut. Loki’s words, of course, made sense, but he didn’t know if he could even bring up the courage to go up against the one brother who he still had, to break this small, fragile bond that tethered him to this world. Lucifer had been different—Lucifer had _rebelled_ , and he had been wrong. Castiel, though… Cas was different; he was just an angel trying to keep everything together, and considering his own track record, did Gabriel have any reason to fault him for what he was doing? Castiel was trying and, even until now, Gabriel knew he was doing nothing but looking the other way and ignoring his own piling problems.

“It’s time for you to stop running, Gabriel,” the Trickster hissed out, eyes narrowing. “Stand up for what should be right and convince Castiel to end his foolish crusade. Trust me; you do not want the Winchesters to find out about this. And when they do—” she paused at that, the trembling of her fist abruptly stopping just as the grip she had on Gabriel slackened. The archangel stumbled as he regained his balance, lifting his gaze out of instinctive curiosity and saw the pained look on Loki’s face, a dark regret painted on her features. Her voice lapsed into sudden quietness, speaking in a way that was almost like a whisper. “When they do, Gabriel, it’ll be too late to fix anything.” 

She turned her eyes to him, and suddenly Gabriel could see a fragment of the Trickster’s mask peeling off, a crack through the countless layers of false happiness that she wore to the world. She was the Trickster, the interloper, the god cast down to Earth and chained to it. She could have been a God of her own making, a being just as powerful as the old man himself… but yet, here she was broken and battered and bound to a world beyond her choosing. It reminded Gabriel of how it had been back in the other world, of how he had all the power and might and everything there vulnerable at his fingertips. He recalled the freedom and joy and ease of living in a world that had nothing to challenge his power, the ecstasy of being at the top of the proverbial food chain. Most of all though, he could remember how incredibly painful it was all the way up there, in that lonely spot just reserved for one and one alone.

The archangel swallowed down the hard lump in his throat, trying to work his suddenly dry mouth. “Did you…?”

Loki’s eyes softened and a wry smile appeared on her lips as she let go of the other entirely and took a step back. “I went to take a glance,” she admitted, her voice soft as the pained look entered her eyes again. “That’s why I interfered.”

“Just because of that?” Gabriel asked despite himself, and the Trickster’s smile widened just a little more.

“There are other things,” she replied, and the regret in her voice was impossible to ignore. “You’ll understand when the time comes. Please, Gabe—” and it was so rare to hear the Trickster actually pleading, to ask for help when help was the last thing that the Trickster should ever need, and the enormity of that moment struck Gabriel so hard he was lost on what to do or say. “Just—just stop Castiel, before everything goes down the drain. Promise me that you will.”

“I—” Gabriel started, stopping as the words caught in his throat momentarily. How could he even… “I don’t know.”

“Just try,” Loki returned, trying to be gentle, to be helpful. “Please. Just try, at least.”

Knowing that he didn’t have anything else to say to that, the archangel could only nod in response. He agreed, even though his eyes were already betraying his own feelings about the situation. He didn’t even know how he was going to do this or if it was even possible, but—

_You are still Gabriel; you are still the messenger of Heaven, no matter the things you have done as Loki. You are… You are still my brother, Gabriel. That will not change._

_Will it?_ Gabriel thought to himself cruelly as he started to count down the minutes he had left of everything he could still hold dear in this world. _Will it not change, when I have to stand up against you?_

Suddenly he wasn’t all that certain at all.


	9. eighth act

**VIII: eighth act—this broken world we choose.**

“That went pretty well, all things considered,” Loki remarked gaily, the moment they were back at Gabriel's hotel room, and it was hard for Dean not to see the bright grin slapped onto the girl's face. He did have to agree, it really was one hell of a lucky break that they had managed to get a good number of the pagan gods on their side; there was even a whole bunch of them he hadn't even heard about in his life. All in all, the girl had estimated there were about a hundred or so of the gods pledging their power to them—and considering their circumstances, that was quite a lot.

A lot of hands to help them, and a lot of hands to betray them. Call Dean a skeptic, but he wasn't inclined to believe all of this so quickly. It was only a matter of time before _something_ else—something wholly not-good—would happen, so Dean couldn't see why it should stop now.

Sam, ever the too-trusting idiot, despite his big brain, smiled back in turn and rubbed his giant hands together. “Okay. So, uh...”

“What do we do now, Loki?” Gabriel spoke up, cutting through Sam. Dean saw the archangel's eyebrows knitting together in a frown, looking more contemplative and worried now after the bout of happiness he saw on the other's face back in the meeting earlier. Maybe he was thinking along the same lines as Dean was—after all, if it was anybody it would be Gabriel who knew best how the pagans worked. If Dean was already suspicious, it stood to reason that Gabriel might have thought the same thing. They were both waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop.

Loki raised her own eyebrows at Gabriel's face, blinking as she glanced between both Gabriel and Dean for several moments before her expression settled back down. “Well, now I'll bring you guys back to shiny America, so that you can work on finding out more about Purgatory and figure out what's going on,” she replied, “I'll liaise with Orpheus and the others to decide our next course of action. Once there's something, I'll head over to inform you guys.”

Well, that didn't sound too bad. At least if the pagans tried anything, Dean knew they'd be ready. He crossed his arms and nodded, acknowledging the response. “Sounds like a decent plan. I'll be glad to be back on my side of the globe.”

“We should return to Bobby's,” Cas intoned from beside him, “He would appreciate this accomplishment.”

Sam snorted at the angel's words. “Appreciate it, or call us idjits for pulling this moronic stunt.”

  


“ _Idjits._ ”

Dean rolled his eyes as his brother's mouthed out an ' _I told you_ ' at Cas while Gabriel looked between snorting in amusement and bursting out in laughter. Either way, neither of those actions would amuse the old hunter, now scowling before them and looking very unimpressed with the story they had just told him.

“ _Idjits,_ ” Bobby said again for emphasis, eyes flickering between all four as Dean watched the elder's nostril's flare. “Couldn't you have at least called when you were there?”

“We weren't even in the country, Bobby,” Sam replied with a sigh, brushing one hand down his hair in a gesture of exasperation. “We really had no idea we would be brought out so far.”

“Yeah, Bobby,” Dean added, knowing that he had better say something as well, before the man could smack him for anything. He darted his eyes right towards Gabriel, glaring daggers at the archangel as he added on. “Nobody told us we'd be going halfway across the freakin' _world._ ”

Gabriel raised his hands up in the universal gesture of mock-surrender. “Don't start pointing fingers at me, Deano. If it was within America I would have already asked you to drive, right?” The archangel rolled his eyes, turning his gaze towards Cas. “Seriously, bro, the amount of blame they place on me. I'm so _hurt_.”

Cas only returned Gabriel's words with a helpless shrug, and Dean could make out the flat tones that indicated he was actually being sarcastic. “It would be more helpful to inform them of their destination before departing, brother,” he replied, and Dean smirked at how Gabriel groaned at Cas’ answer. 

“Quit your whinin',” Bobby half-snapped, now moving towards his study table where a vanilla yellow folder sat at the surface, looking relatively new. “We've got some movement while you guys were out shopping.” Picking up the file Bobby took a moment to glance through it to ensure that he had the correct one before he tossed it towards Dean. Catching the file, Dean immediately made to open it, eyes flickering down to the various reports, newspaper clippings and photos that lined the inside.

“Sandusky, Ohio,” the elder man started, his voice drawing Dean's attention away from the file. All four turned to look at the old hunter as he jabbed a finger at the folder, explaining. “Just got back from there with Rufus. You'll be interested to know what we've found.”

“Just cut to the chase, Bobby,” Dean quickly spoke, giving the file one more look before he snapped it shut and tossed it back to Bobby. The man simply gave him a look before he passed it over to Sam, and the younger Winchester instantly started pouring over all the information that the folder provided. “What's up?”

Bobby grabbed himself a bottle of whiskey and a glass, pouring out a cup before he could grant Dean an answer. “The Mother of All's reared her head up proper. Made some...” The man trailed off to a scowl, attempting to find the appropriate words before he gave up, shrugging. “Worm thing. Gave us a hell of a time.” He downed the glass in one go, grimacing at the alcohol burn he got for that. “And oh, your grandpa's dead.”

Now _that_ was unexpected. Dean felt his eyes widen at the sudden news, shocked at the abruptness of it. Samuel was someone he wouldn’t miss—especially with all the bullshit that he had pulled out—but... yeah, it was pretty shocking. Sam looked just as surprised, his own eyes equally wide as he glanced at Dean and then back at Bobby. “You positive?” he asked, understandably uncertain.

“About as sure as seeing a bunch of bullet holes in his chest,” Bobby replied as he shook his head, pouring out another glass. “Everything was a bloody nightmare. Blasted thing kept crawling into people’s ears and controlled them like puppets. Took Rufus getting it in him before we could figure it out.”

Dean's blood turned cold at the mention of the other hunter. Rufus had it? “Is he alright?” he instantly asked, eyes already on the alert.

Bobby gave a snort in response. “Last I saw him he was alive, yeah. Sorta shaken, but having a giant worm electrocuted out of your brain would do that to ya.” He downed his drink again and settled the glass back onto the table, keeping his gaze down for a few moments before he continued on. “Thing didn't go without a fight, though. Told us a good amount of stuff.”

Sam turned his head slightly to the side, frowning in confusion. “What kind of things, Bobby?”

“Stuff about the Mother of All we've been trying to figure out,” he answered with another scowl, arms crossing over his chest. The tip of his cap was obscuring his eyes, but Dean knew very well that in spite of the scowl, Bobby was thinking very hard about this whole thing—just like them, he wanted this whole thing over and done with. He leaned back against the wall, not speaking but listening intently to what the elder hunter was saying. “For one, those worm things were an original recipe. Turns out she just made 'em out of thin air or something.”

“She created them?” Gabriel swiftly interjected here, and it was quite an abrupt change to hear the sudden edge in his voice, when all Dean had ever heard was his utter bullshitting voice. It was a change that took Dean quite by surprise, and it hit home one fact that had never really registered into his brain until now: Gabriel, for all his aggravating ways and movements, was still a friggin' _archangel of the Lord_. He remembered back when Castiel described archangels to him, recalled how they were 'the most fearsome wrath of Heaven'. To be honest it was hard to look at Gabriel that way, after everything that he had pulled, but right at this moment, right here, was a reminder of who the false Trickster _truly_ was. He was Gabriel the archangel, one of Heaven's fiercest warriors, and that was what his expression was showing now.

Bobby turned his gaze towards the archangel, eying him for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Seeing as she's the Mother of All, it's not something that seems so far-shot.”

“Like the Father to us, and Lucifer to the demons,” Cas muttered softly from Gabriel's side, turning his head away. “She is the origin of all the other things that hunters hunt down.”

Dean found himself letting out a snort. “Well, ain't that just fucking peachy.” It was pretty good and all that they finally had something to work with, but seriously? Last thing Dean wanted to hunt was yet another big bad—it was actually getting kind of fucking tiring, and Dean had to wonder if they were just that lucky or just that dumb, to constantly land themselves in these kinds of situations.

No time to think about that, though. Sam let out a sigh, rubbing his face with the palm of his free hand. “Well, if she created them, and considering what Bobby told us... it’s not a far stretch to imagine that Eve needed a host to hold those worms or whatever they are.” He turned towards the man. “Got any video to show us, Bobby?”

“The one that got me going there in the first place,” the elder man replied, lowering his gaze to the file still in Sam's hand. “The CD's in there.”

Sam nodded and glanced back down to the folder, rummaging it to take out said CD. “Alright, let's see what we've got.”

  


While Sam busied himself with the video, Dean helped himself to a glass of Bobby's whiskey, pointedly ignoring the stern look that the elder man was giving him for that. Gabriel had already taken one himself and was currently downing it in a way that strongly suggested to Dean that the archangel was troubled over something.

 _Something big,_ he corrected himself as Gabriel finished the entire thing in one go, and was already helping himself to another without pause. Cas was sending worried glances over to the archangel, but didn't say anything else and remained beside Sam, looking at the video with him in a bid to identify Eve. Bobby was already back to hitting the books, looking up whatever he could find out about Eve, and with a jolt Dean knew that it left pretty much just him and Gabriel here.

He sure as hell didn't like it, but the archangel was helping them out at the moment—and it was a fact that they had made more progress than they had done in the last few weeks—so yeah, Dean supposed he could afford not being a dick to Gabriel for the next hour or so. Of course, that was if Gabriel would do the same as well. Dean supposed he had to try his luck, as he made his way over towards where the other was, settling down beside him. “You alright?”

“Depends on what your definition of that word is,” the archangel returned, rolling his eyes.

Dean returned the gesture. “Excuse me for trying not to be a dick.”

Gabriel snorted loudly. “Once a dick, always a dick, Dean-o. Thought you'd know that by now.”

“Yeah, well.” The man gave his drink a brief glare before downing it, and wondering when it had become a norm to be all snarky with an archangel-slash-former Trickster. “Not always.” Cas had been a dick once, yeah, but now... well, now he was kind of one again these days, but...

The archangel scrunched up his nose, the expression on his face one of clear disdain, and moved to start filling his glass back up. “Not always?” he quoted, lifting his now-filled glass and giving Dean a mildly skeptical look. “That almost sounds like a promotion to me, Dean.”

“It doesn't apply to you,” Dean instantly snapped back, glaring daggers at Gabriel; the archangel would have another thing coming if he ever thought that Dean would ever be nicer to _him_ —bastard iced him like a million times just for the sake of tormenting Sam, and he wasn't exactly going to take something like that lying down, even though Gabriel had given up his life to stop Lucifer and helped them with the cage.

Shit, why did all the angels helping them out end up dying in the end? Their luck seriously sucked.

Gabriel made another disbelieving snort. “Stop being such a baby. So I killed you a couple of times. But that was with good intention.”

“What, to tell Sam to give up and let me go to Hell?” the man replied before he could help himself, and keeping out the bite in his voice was pretty much an impossible feat. Never mind the fact that this was all back in the past, and didn't really matter now, but it was still a fact that Gabriel had killed him. Constantly. _A hundred Tuesdays_ , Sam had told him, and Dean didn't know how the hell his little brother could have ever managed to deal with that. He certainly wouldn't be able to. “You've got a hell of a way to show him that.”

All the archangel did in response was shrug. “I wanted Sam to see my point,” he answered, voice turning abruptly soft—an action that startled Dean as he turned towards the other with slightly wide eyes. He watched Gabriel letting out a small sigh, dropping his head lower as he added quietly. “But I guess I know better now.”

Dean quickly picked up his drink and downed the rest of the contents. “Damned right you do,” he half-spat in reply, letting out the momentary flare of anger he felt inside for what Gabriel had said. He should know better—of course the dick should know better, him and Sam were _brothers_ , and more than that too, sometimes. Sammy was the kid he grew up taking care of, the baby brother who he'd always wanted the best for and nothing else. They were not just brothers by blood, but also brothers through sweat and tears and living and dying for each other in every sense of the word. No matter what, Sam would always be the first thing in his mind, and that would never change. He was still his little brother and he was still his family, and what family did was to have each other’s backs no matter what.

Almost as if he had read his mind the corners of Gabriel’s lips curled up quietly, the vaguely forlorn expression turning into something else entirely. “I know,” he returned, and Dean was pretty fucking certain there was something in that voice now he hadn’t heard before; something… familiar. The man frowned, not too comforted with this abrupt shift of personality. Seriously, were all the angels this bipolar? Sometimes it almost seemed to Dean that the only sane angels were the ones who had tried to murder them.

The man opened his mouth to speak up again, but there was a sudden, triumphant shout from Sam. “Found it!”

Both Dean and Gabriel instantly whipped their heads towards where the younger Winchester was, taking just a second before they both left their glasses on the table and went over to him. Beside Sam stood Castiel with a contemplative expression of his own, and looking rather lost in his own thoughts. Dean could see that he was listening though (even with the year apart, Dean still prided himself a bit on being acquainted enough with the language of Cas), and so only gave Gabriel a small nod before asking his brother. “What’ve you got, Sammy?”

Sam leaned back from his chair in response, falling away from the screen so that the other two could see what the laptop was displaying. Despite the questionable quality of the video itself, Dean could more or less make out the workings of a standard gas station from the screen. The video was paused, stuck on a single frame where the screen wavered and flickered dangerously as Dean raked his eyes across the footage, attempting to spot what Sam had found.

“Here, Dean,” his brother offered helpfully, one finger pointing towards his discovery. Dean followed the finger to look at where it pointed, the gears in his own head instantly clicking once he saw what it was that Sam had seen. Right there on the screen, right over where a girl’s face should be was instead the warped, twisted visage of something else entirely. The static around that small spot was too much for Dean to make out anything, but he was pretty willing to bet that she was the Mother of All. As far as he knew, feedback like that didn’t happen naturally on video, especially when this was from a security camera.

Bobby appeared from behind them all, peering at the screen too. “Well I’ll be damned,” he started, letting out a low whistle of appreciation. “I think we’ve found her.”

“That, or we’ve got a vague lead on how she looks like,” Gabriel added on, leaning closer towards the screen to eye the image himself. “It’s better than nothing, at least.”

Dean nodded as he straightened up, arms crossed as he pondered over their next course of action. Okay, so now they had some information about this Mother of All, which was great, but not exactly useful if they had any intention of hunting her down. There was also the thing about her making new monsters, and if this had been just an experiment (it felt like one to him anyway), he shuddered to think of the stuff that she would come out with in the future. 

Bobby cleared his throat, glancing at Dean momentarily before speaking. “I'll send a message to the other hunters and tell 'em what to look for. They'll contact us the moment they have something.”

“Alright, Bobby,” Dean replied, nodding. Sam did likewise and Gabriel looked like he was about to say something when Cas suddenly spoke up.

“I have to go,” came Castiel's sudden words, so random and out of the blue that everybody had to pause and turn their heads around to give the angel a confused look. Cas’ head was still down, and he was shuffling his feet—what the hell?—and yeah, nothing about this was suspicious at all. Dean just barely managed to keep on his own poker face as the angel repeated himself. “I have to return. The others are calling me.”

Gabriel had a blank look on his face, and Dean could tell that his response was injected with false cheer. “Sure, go on ahead. We'll update you once we've got more information.”

Castiel nodded once before whisking off, and at the moment he was gone Gabriel sagged, shoulders relaxing as the archangel let out a small sigh. Both Dean and Sam turned towards him now, questioning looks on both of their faces. 

“Gabriel, what—” Sam began, but the archangel cut him off before he could finish.

“Next time, Gigantor,” he swiftly said before any of them could get a word in edgewise. Dean looked at the expression on Gabriel's face, the grim determination that had settled on his features. It was a look that Dean himself could relate to—a look that told him about all the necessary evils that had to be done for the sake of something much more important. It had been the look on his face when he was younger, when Sammy was still young and John charged him the task of protecting his brother. A look that more or less screamed to him 'my idiot little brother is screwing something up and I need to help him'. And thinking about it, Cas was Gabriel's younger brother, wasn't he? Sure, Gabriel was a shitty one, but now seeing that look on his face...

Letting out an annoyed huff under his breath Dean nodded out his acknowledgement, green eyes staring at Gabriel's own determined hazel gaze. “You're heading off?”

Gabriel's response was in the form of a brilliant grin. “You know me too well, Dean-o.”

“Just go,” he quickly snapped back, eyes narrowing now. “Do what you need to do and bring Cas back here from whatever bullshit he's gotten himself into.”

“Will do,” Gabriel replied before he vanished with a snap of fingers.

  


It was easy enough to keep track of Castiel's Grace, especially when he had been exposed to it himself. It was almost like trying to find a part of himself, and the call of Castiel's Grace instantly drew him to the location where the other had zapped himself to after learning the identity of Eve.

Gabriel wasn't an idiot; he knew very well what Castiel was doing here now.

 _Damnit, bro,_ the archangel thought to himself as he reappeared at the building he had gone to the last time, although this time he could feel the difference of the atmosphere with his other non-human senses. It had been sealed off from humans, warded against angels and demons alike, with the exception of the two now inside said building. Gabriel could feel the wards trying to push him, but he remained unaffected still. He was still recovering, but he hadn't reconnected with the Host yet. He hadn't changed the properties of the vessel he was in either, so for all that the world could tell, he was a pagan god at best, a non-entity at the worst. Either way, it was helping out here in spades.

Slipping past the patrol that guarded the entrance, Gabriel slunk into the building once more, grimacing at the condensed smell of sulfur that assaulted his senses; he had never liked the smell. Still, this was no time to be all picky. Shaking his head, Gabriel composed himself and quickly went down the path he had walked through last time, trying to ignore the building stench that was now causing his eyes to water. Ungh, how could Castiel even stand this? If the smell was on the other's clothes when he dragged him out of here, Gabriel resolved to make Castiel take a bath to get rid of this horrible stink. If he got Castiel out of here.

The archangel bit down on his bottom lip to silence that last thought in his head, and made the last few turns, ears slowly picking up snatches of conversation through the doors of the room where Castiel and Crowley were currently in. The words became distinct enough for Gabriel to pick up just as Crowley was finishing his question. “—so our little beauty was last there, hmm?” 

“The Winchesters were discussing that,” came Castiel's voice, his reply blank and neutral and Gabriel could all-too easily imagine the equally blank look on his face. Not for the first time, Gabriel had to admit that the term 'poker face' was something that could adequately describe the angel if he tried hard enough. 

It wasn't hard to note the dry tone of Crowley's response, and Gabriel knew the demon well-enough to easily imagine the eyeroll that accompanied his one-word answer. “Obviously.”

There was a brief pause before Cas spoke up again, this time questioning. “What will you do?”

“I'll be getting Growly and his pack to sniff her out,” the demon replied simply, almost sounding thrilled to answer. “If she has been at that gas station, then it shouldn't be hard to get a scent and pick it up from there. With luck, she should be in our hands in the next few days.” There was the sound of a distinct hand clap that could only belong to Crowley, the triumph in his voice not that hard to notice. “Once we have her it’s the home run for Team Crowley and Cas. We'll finish up our partnership, gain our individual spoils and no one will be the wiser.”

The pause from Castiel then was almost tangible, along with the odd hesitancy that told so many and yet so few things to Gabriel at the same time. “And you are certain this will work?”

“Cas, Cas, _Cas_ ,” Crowley returned in a drawl, sighing loudly in exasperation. “Are you seriously getting cold feet _now_?”

“My feet are not cold,” the angel instantly interjected, although his answer only caused Gabriel to cringe, even from the sidelines. _Seriously, bro—wrong place, worst time._

Crowley, on the other hand, let out a snort in response. “Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to try.” Footsteps sounded out after those words, and Gabriel remained deathly silent as the tap of the demon’s polished leather shoes drew closer towards the door and he heard the demon’s voice getting closer and louder. “Seriously, angel, it would do you well to loosen up a little.”

The archangel could almost _hear_ the bristle of Castiel’s invisible wings to that remark, and if that wasn’t enough the sudden sharp, icy tone of the angel’s voice was enough to demonstrate how little he took to that remark. “I cannot afford to relax against Raphael. He is—”

“—an archangel, the most fearsome wrath of Heaven, blah di blah,” Crowley smoothly interrupted, sarcasm dripping from his words once more. “I think I should know that better than you do, considering I was the one who proposed this relationship in the first place.” Now standing next to the door Gabriel could see the back of Crowley’s head past the small window, and for a brief moment he considered getting rid of the demon here and now to make all of this quick. But he wasn’t at full strength, and Gabriel didn’t want to mess up anything either—besides, he could get more information if he continued to lurk here for a while longer.

“I want to ensure that you hold up your end of the bargain,” Castiel spoke up again, to yet another disdainful snort from Crowley that was pointedly ignored as the angel continued speaking. “Considering how you easily betrayed Lucifer, somebody like me would not fall short of the list.”

Crowley sighed once more. “Relax, angel,” he replied, snapping his fingers to most likely summon something or other—probably some of his usual scotch, if Gabriel had to guess. “I’m a demon of my word. Although I can’t say the same for you, Cas.”

The silence told Gabriel everything he needed to know—Castiel was confused, and Crowley’s resulting chuckle wasn’t making things any better for him, and how his gut was currently screaming for him to flee. If anything, Gabriel was one to trust said gut feelings, since they were the reason why he had made it past his harder times while on Earth. Slipping away from his spot near the door the archangel prepared to get out of this place as soon as possible, but at the moment he turned around Gabriel found himself coming face to face with eight pairs of blood red eyes belonging to a giant, shaggy but still powerfully built hound unlike anything ever seen on the face of this world. Mainly because it _couldn’t_ be seen in the world, at least not by everybody who lived in it. Not unless Hell had a contract on your soul.

The hellhound let out a low, warning growl and Gabriel took a few steps back, gulping as he heard the doors behind him swing open to the sound of Crowley’s golf claps and the tap of his polished shoes as the demon stepped forward. Gabriel turned back around, ignoring Castiel’s stunned expression and concentrated on the smirking demon before him, addressing him curtly. “Crowley.”

“Loki,” the demon returned, the smile on his face only stretching further. “Or should I say Gabriel? It really gave me quite the shock when I found out your true identity. I suppose you never meant to tell me the truth despite our long relationship?”

Gabriel’s only response was the small, upward curve of his lips. “Private witness protection. Nobody knew about it except me.”

“That was back then,” Crowley pointed out, idly gesturing with a hand; behind the archangel Growly the hellhound shifted, pulling back just enough for Gabriel to have space, but also close enough that it could lunge right back out and snap him into two, if Gabriel so much as attempted something under the demon’s nose. The archangel made the smart decision and stayed still, throwing a dirty look towards the King of Hell, who returned the look with another one of his smarmy smiles, speaking up again. “Things have changed a lot while you were gone, Gabriel.”

The archangel couldn’t help but snort. “I think I can see that, Crowley.” He shifted slightly, crossing his arms and arching up an eyebrow. “King of Hell, huh?”

“You’re well-informed, at least,” was all that the demon said, before turning his attention towards Castiel now, dark amusement edging in his voice. “So, Cas, what should we do?”

Both Castiel and Gabriel jerked their heads towards Crowley at the question, and the archangel felt dread gripping him tight, rendering him unable to speak as he watched the angel narrow frosty blue eyes at the other. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice already betraying the emotions that Castiel had been attempting to hide.

Crowley gave the angel a mildly unimpressed look at the reply, although the expression soon melted into something else much more darkly gleeful as the demon rubbed his hands. “What I am saying, Cassie dear, is that our dear friend Gabriel here has overheard us and knows that you’re working with me now. Considering the shared contacts you two have, it wouldn’t be too much of a stretch to assume just who he’ll be running back to tell this development to now, hmm?”

“Crowley—” Gabriel started, but the demon waved his hand and the archangel promptly shut up at the putrid breath of the hellhound breathing dangerously close to his throat, making his hair stand on end. Castiel stiffened, eyes growing wider in alarm and Gabriel could feel the pulse of the other's Grace starting to unfurl.

The demon squinted his eyes and sighed in a gesture of false disappointment. “And here I hoped we would have been able to talk on nicer terms, Cas, considering how we're partners and all that. But I suppose it's always the same for all of you angels.” He raised his hand, fingertips rubbing each other as he prepared to snap his fingers. “Let me just make this simpler, Castiel,” he started, dark eyes glancing towards the angel. “You can do the honors for me, or I'll do it myself. Either way, I'll call it even and we can go on with our arrangement. How about that?”

Gabriel quickly turned his gaze towards Castiel, clenching his jaw at how the lesser angel was studiously avoiding his gaze. “Are you really going to let me die again, bro? After everything?” Castiel the naïve but hopeful little angel, Castiel who was nothing but curious and saw the good in everything. Castiel, who had once followed Gabriel all over Heaven like a little duckling, and who Gabriel had taken under his wing. Castiel, who he had hurt in the end because of his own selfish decisions to flee from Michael and Lucifer's spat, and hid on Earth for so long until the Winchesters dragged him back to reality and had it shoved into his face. He knew he had hurt the other, yes, but—

“Think of Sam and Dean, bro,” Gabriel continued, gesturing at him with his hands. “If I'm gone they're going to put two and two together, and you wouldn't want them finding out about this.” He flinched slightly at the hellhound moving ever closer to his throat, its giant nose almost brushing against the skin of his neck. “Is this how you want things to go, Cas? To let them know that you're working with Crowley, and that you're _lying_ to them? To Dean?”

Castiel stiffened once again, his jaw clenching up, and Gabriel knew he was hitting the angel in his weak spot. It was low of him, he knew, but seeing things how things were already he could only recall Loki's words to him. He needed to stop Castiel, before it was all too late. Before whatever it was that had frightened Loki came to pass. “Dean won't be happy when he knows what you've done, Cas. But it’s still not too late. This still can be fixed.” It had to be, or else Loki wouldn't even have cornered him for this.

Crowley, of course, played the voice of the devil, eyes rolling before he spoke. “Think of your war, Castiel. Will you let a moment of stupid sentimentality ruin everything? You're up against an archangel, angel, don't forget. You're going to need all the juice you need to pit yourself against him. You can't afford to lose, remember?” 

“There are other ways, bro,” Gabriel quickly countered, sending a brief glare towards an amused Crowley. “We don't have to do this. You don't need to do this. Remember what you and the bozos fought for.” He took a step forward, steeling himself against the dangerous growl that came from behind him as he moved. “You can choose, Castiel. It's never too late to choose.”

“Countless lives to one, Cassie,” the demon returned, smirking. “I suggest you _choose_ wisely.”

The silence that followed was harsh and tense and stretched on for what seemed to be hours, as if the world itself was waiting for Castiel to make his decision. Gabriel swallowed down the lump in his throat as Growly's nose brushed against the back of his neck, the hellhound's putrid breath rolling off his skin. Crowley only watched quietly, but it was hard to ignore the sure look on his face, to see the confidence and certainty that the King of Hell had that Castiel would choose what he wanted the angel to choose.

Gabriel clenched his fists and narrowed his eyes at Cas, biting his lip. _C'mon, bro. Please make the right decision._

“Tick tock, angel,” Crowley started after a while, hands tucking into the pockets of his pants. “Time's running. Make a decision, or else I will.” He raised his hand as he said that, fingers already set in a gesture to snap. The hellhound shifted behind him, another low growl sounding behind him and Gabriel prepared to jump away, to flee and defend himself as much as he could—he had already spent a good deal of his energy just coming here, he wasn't certain if he could get out of this properly. Still, he had to try. The Winchesters needed to know, if Castiel was going to stick with Crowley. They _had_ to know.

The archangel held his breath as Castiel finally raised his head, blue eyes turning to glance at him with an unspoken apology written in them. He raised his hand, Grace pulsing and shifting under his fingertips as Castiel sucked in a deep breath and lowered his head. “I apologize, brother.”

Gabriel couldn't find it within himself to say anything, too shocked and stunned to reply as he stayed rooted to his spot, watching blankly as Castiel lifted his hand higher, fingers starting to curl into the gesture of a snap. So this was it. In the end, he was going to be betrayed by yet another one of his brothers—another from his family. Elysian Fields flashed past his mind once more, to the vivid memory of Lucifer's expression as the devil cleaved through him with his own blade and how similar it looked to Castiel's expression now, as the angel prepared to end him.

“No one makes us choose anything, Cas,” he spoke, voice nearly a whisper even in the silence of the room, and Gabriel closed his eyes, preparing himself for his painful end. With the way he was now, there was no chance of him surviving whatever it was that Castiel threw at him. If this was how he was going to go, then so be it; he was tired enough from all the stuff that Lucifer and Michael had already done, and to see a replay of it with another two of his brothers... Gabriel really didn't have the heart to see it again. If Castiel was intent on keeping this up and continued to put himself against Raphael, then he'd be better off dead. At least he didn't have to see it all happen again.

Eyes still closed, Gabriel waited and braced himself for the moment of intense pain, that split second of white-hot intensity before everything faded to darkness again. He heard Castiel shift and the archangel clenched his jaw, bracing himself tighter—

“No.”

That had been Castiel's voice.

Gabriel instantly snapped his eyes wide open, stunned into silence by what the angel had just said. Castiel was facing Crowley now with his eyes narrowed, the hand directed at the archangel earlier now turned towards the demon, and if anything the pulse of Grace from before was only growing stronger and more powerful, thrumming with holy energy. 

Crowley spent a good minute or two staring at Castiel, as if the angel had grown a second head on something in his vessel, before he remembered to blink. “I'm sorry, Cas, but did I hear that right?” He twisted his head to the side, cupping his ear. “You said 'no'?”

“I said 'no',” the angel confirmed, his own gaze never wavering as he kept his hand towards the demon. Distracted by the danger that his master was currently facing, Growly the hellhound barely paid attention to Gabriel as the archangel slipped away from the direct line of being a hellhound's chew toy, and closer towards the relative safety of Cas. He didn't enter either person's field of vision, of course, not wanting to disturb anything without risking blowing things up.

Of course, it would be a long shot before that method would even work. “You can stop lurking around, Gabriel, I can see you,” Crowley called out with a roll of his eyes, before returning his gaze back to Castiel, shaking his head. “Really, angel, are you going to just stop now after everything you've done? After all that you've accomplished? Are you really going to let that soft head of yours get the best of you?” The demon arched up an eyebrow, crossing his arms across his chest. “It’s the life of one against many, Cas. Even I have no wish to see the end of the world hanging over our heads yet again.”

“We,” Castiel started without pause, eyes darting towards Gabriel for a moment before going back to Crowley. “We have stopped it from happening once, and we will do so again if it is necessary.” There was a moment's pause, and then he added on for good measure. “The deal is off, Crowley. I will no longer aid you in locating Purgatory. The next time we meet, we will be enemies.”

The demon's only response was to sigh, shaking his head once more. “Suit yourself, angel,” he replied, shrugging. “It's your loss.” And saying that, Crowley swiftly lifted up his hand and snapped his fingers loudly.

Not even thinking twice, Gabriel was already throwing himself out, shouting out the angel's name. “Cas, get away!”

Castiel just barely managed to avoid being chomped into two when Growly lunged, a giant blur of black and red rushing at an inhuman speed. The angel stumbled as he landed, barely managing to regain his balance as he whirled around with his blade now in hand. Gabriel himself didn't have the power to draw out his sword yet (or do anything else for that matter besides transporting himself at best, and even that required massive amounts of effort), and so was forced to remain dodging attacks by the hellhound as he looked at the blade that Castiel was holding now, feeling vaguely uncertain as he shifted his gaze back to the other. “Is that going to work?”

“We’ll find out now, I assume,” the angel managed to reply before going onto the offensive, dashing forward as Growly attempted to attack again, slashing out his sword in a wide arc. There was a sharp yelp from the hellhound as holy steel met damned flesh and the beast twisted back, claws scraping against the floor as it landed roughly. Castiel stepped closer towards the canine, his blue eyes narrowing while the grip on his blade tightened. Gabriel picked himself back up, brushing himself off as he looked at the angel. “We need to get out of here.”

“This place is warded heavily,” was Castiel's steady reply, eyes still fixed on Growly as the hellhound crouched, ready to spring forward again. “We will not be able to fly until we are outside of this building.”

All Gabriel could do was to roll his eyes at the response. “Figures,” he muttered, right before jumping away again when the hellhound went back into attacking both of the angels. Castiel lunged at the same time as Growly, thrusting his sword forward in a jab to strike the beast. Growly quickly twisted away, avoiding the jab before it could land and immediately lashed back out with its jaws. Castiel let out a pained cry as the hellhound's sharp canines grazed the skin of his arm, leaving a trail of scratch marks that smoked with the putrid stench of sulfur. “Castiel!” he cried out, alarm in his voice.

Castiel only growled and clutched at the injury, eyes flashing as the angel shouted back at him. “Stay back, Gabriel!” he went before sidestepping the swipe of Growly's giant paw, the hellhound's sharp claws flashing under the lights. The angel countered with another jab, hitting home this time round, as the blade plunged through said paw. Growly howled loudly, the power of its cry causing the lights of the room to flicker and burst. Gabriel winced and raised an arm to defend himself from the resulting shower of sparks that rained down on him, while Castiel took his chances and threw another jab at the hellhound. Growly saw the attack coming before it hit and swiped its injured paw, claws digging into the flesh of Castiel's upper arm, the force of the attack causing him to lose his grip on his sword. 

The angel swore out in Enochian as he drew back, stumbling to regain his balance. Smoke hissed from the wound as blood oozed out, dripping down his arm and staining his clothes. The sword had been flung across the room, skidding on the floor and landing in one of the far corners of the room, making it impossible to pick it up without being torn to shreds by the hellhound. Growly growled as it stalked closer now, as if having understood the situation; both Castiel and Gabriel were now forced to step back, both of them eying the hellhound cautiously and ready to bolt the moment it tried to attack again. The beast’s eyes flared, canines barred in a deep growl as Growly moved all the more closer, muscles tensing up and ready to lunge at any moment. Any second now—

“Get ‘im, Coyote!”

An impossibly fast figure rushed from the doorway in a blur, a flash of white and grey crossing his eyes for a single moment before Growly was sent flying to the wall. Coyote stood triumphant in his spot, blue eyes gleaming in an unspoken challenge as the wolf-dog waited for the hellhound to get back on its feet before lunging again, striking at the beast where it hurt most. It was easy enough to see who had the advantage in the fight, and while the two canines were occupied Loki stepped into the room, quickly making her way to where Gabriel and Castiel were, helping them up. The archangel couldn’t help but let out a snort as Loki did a swift patch up on him with her powers. “It would have been nicer if you arrived here earlier,” he pointed out, looking mildly annoyed.

Loki’s only response was to grin. “Glad to know my sense of timing is as amazing as always,” the Trickster replied, giving Gabriel a quick once over to ensure that he was fine, before she turned her attention to Castiel. “Finally made a proper choice now, have you?”

Castiel opened his mouth to respond, but the Trickster cut him short with a wave of her hand. “You don’t need to answer me—what’s more important is that you’ve made the right decision here.” Once making sure that Castiel was alright too (save the giant wound he was still sporting) Loki turned back to where the dogfight was happening, whistling to get Coyote’s attention. Responding at once, Coyote deftly avoided the lash that Growly attempted to land on him and darted out of the room, most likely already making good his escape. Once the wolf-dog was gone Loki wasted no time, snapping all of them out of the place before the hellhound could lunge at them and crunch them between its jaws. Within seconds the scenery had snapped back into the familiar front steps of Bobby’s place, and a few more moments after that the door burst open to Dean and Sam’s worried expressions.

“What the—” Dean started, only to stop when he looked at Cas and saw the wound he still had. “Jesus, Cas, what the hell happened?”

Loki spoke up before either of the angels could get a word in edgewise. “Raphael happened,” the Trickster explained with a shrug, already making her way to patch up Castiel with a touch of her hand, and everybody blinked at the swift recovery of the angel. “It’s not a happy war up there, I’m afraid.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean instantly swore, voice dipping into a snarl as he stepped closer towards Castiel. “Why didn’t you tell us you were going to tangle with Raphael, Cas?”

Gabriel watched as Castiel raised his head and looked at Dean with those big, doe-like eyes of his, mouth opening and closing as the angel attempted to say something, but nothing seemed to be able to come out from him; to be honest, Gabriel wasn't too surprised by that. Castiel had just made what was a pretty big decision, and one that had changed... well, changed a lot of things. His partnership with Crowley had been dissolved, along with one of his best chances of winning the war. How was one supposed to talk about that, let alone Castiel to Dean? The archangel knew the other well enough by now that despite all appearances, Cas was even worse at talking about his feelings than Dean himself was, and that was seriously saying something.

Somehow managing to sense the situation, Loki stepped in again, cutting in smoothly to prevent anymore awkwardness to spring up in the atmosphere. “It was an ambush. Just be thankful that I happened to be looking for Gabriel as well, or else things would have been much worse. Anyway,” she went on, raising her voice just a little higher so that nobody could interrupt. “You can all thank me for saving your butts later, but first I have news.”

Everybody instantly straightened themselves at the announcement, Gabriel going on the alert at the unspoken meanings behind Loki's words. “Did Kali and the others come to anything?” he asked.

“There's good news and there's bad news,” the Trickster answered before she paused and frowned. “Well, more like good news and slightly annoying news, but whatever. In the meeting we've found a way to take out Eve.”

Sam blinked at the news. “That's great—”

“Hold your horses there, Sam,” Loki started again, interrupting the younger Winchester. “Yeah, we've found a way, but first we need a little something before we can start hunting her down.”

Dean narrowed his eyes, natural distrust evident in his eyes, on the expression across his face as the man questioned cautiously. “And what exactly do we need?”

“Nothing from any of you,” the girl replied to the hidden question in Dean's words, smiling as she did so. “What we need are the ashes of a Phoenix.”

Both of Bobby's eyebrows instantly rose up. “No hunter's seen a Phoenix in years,” he stated, more curious then demanding.

“That's because they're pretty much near-extinct,” Loki answered simply, before glancing back to the brothers, and she let out an amused snort at the narrowed eyes coming from both of the Winchesters this time. “I haven't finished yet, so stop with the bitchfaces already.”

“Well then,” Dean started, eyes narrowing even further. “Talk.”

The girl rolled her eyes, but did as told regardless. “There's somebody I know who will have the ashes we need.”

Sam, of course, couldn't hide his curiosity especially when the bait was now hanging there. “Who?” came the inevitable question.

“Another Trickster, like Gabriel was,” Loki replied, tucking her hands into her jeans. “Crow.”

Gabriel sucked in a deep breath at the name, eyes widening just a little. Crow? She really couldn't mean the same Crow that he was thinking about now, could she? He looked towards the Trickster, staring at her and tried to ignore the hesitation in his own voice. “Jack Crow?”

“The one and the same.” Loki let out a sigh, shuffling her feet for a moment and shook her head. “I've sent a message to him already, so we're going to be heading there first thing tomorrow.”

“All of us?” Sam questioned again, looking between everyone with a concerned look on his face.

“You and Dean, mostly,” the girl admitted, shrugging helplessly. “It'll help if you two tag along.”

“Why?” Dean instantly questioned, his voice coming out in a harsh snap. Gabriel wasn't all that surprised to hear that from Dean, actually—something would have been wrong if the hunter's honed instincts weren't kicking in at this time.

“It's hard to explain,” Loki answered, for once looking apologetic as she said that. “But I'd appreciate it if you're agreeable. I won't let anything happen to either of you.”

Gabriel watched Dean consider the Trickster's words carefully, glancing between her and Gabriel as he pondered over his decision. Sam was looking at his brother as well, willing to stick with whatever it was that Dean had decided. Castiel remained silent, his blue eyes glued to Dean's every movement until Gabriel caught him doing that, and then the angel transferred his intense gaze to the archangel, and Gabriel had to inch back a little at the look, unsettled by the way Castiel was staring at him. He felt a little like he was being pried open, a possibility that could be all too true considering the Grace currently shared between them; if the angel wished to, he could use that connection to gain access to Gabriel's deepest thoughts and feelings.

The fact that Gabriel hadn't thought of that until now worried him, considering that Castiel had been working with Crowley until now. Was he really losing his guard so quickly? The thought was seriously unsettling, and the archangel quickly banished it from his mind, turning his attention back to the situation as Dean seemed to have arrived at a decision.

“Alright, fine,” he started, looking at the Trickster with a frown. “So just where is this guy of yours?”

A wry smile crossed Loki's lips at that, and the Trickster replied, her answer coming out in a distinct sing-song voice. “ _Where everybody’s from and nobody goes, that’s where you’re gonna find Jack’s crows._ ”

  



	10. ninth act

**IX: ninth act—gathering of the murder.**

To Gabriel's immense surprise, it wasn't Dean but Sam who cornered him that night and asked questions.

“Okay, Gabriel,” the human started, both expression and tone suggesting that he was in no mood for any bullshit. “What really happened?”

Gabriel, of course, was never one to pay heed to anybody's warning, least of all Sam's (even as bad of a move as it was). The archangel put on his most innocent face, looking back at the other as he returned the words with a “What?”

“Gabriel,” Sam started again, his tone much more insistent.

The archangel sighed. “It's nothing that you need to be concerned about, Sammy. It's already been dealt with.”

“And Cas?”

Funny how such a simple question could also be needlessly complex at the same time. Gabriel pointedly ignored the momentary lapse of his own body, how his blood froze for a moment and how his chest constricted, forcing his heart up his throat. Quickly composing himself again, Gabriel swallowed down the lump before he replied. “What about him?”

He was certain that Sam had noticed the lapse, but for some reason he didn't point it out and after a moment's pause, spoke again. “He's... well, you're helping him.” He paused, giving Gabriel a look before adding on. “Right?”

 _Depends on what you define as help,_ the archangel thought to himself. “What's with the sudden questioning, Gigantor? Can't you ask him yourself, or are you that much of a girl?”

A guilty look passed Sam's face at the words, but he quickly covered it up with a scowl. “Shut up, Gabriel. Just answer me.”

“Well, I _am_ his brother,” Gabriel made a small shrug. “And he's helping me. Only right that I repay the favor.”

Upon hearing the answer Sam instantly sagged, a sigh escaping him. “That's... good. That's good.” He took a step back from the archangel, nodding. “I'm glad to hear that.”

Seriously, was Gabriel missing something here? He raised his eyebrows, casting a questioning look towards the younger Winchester. “Sam, is something wrong?” Sure, he knew some things about Castiel that the Winchesters most likely didn't, but the fact stood that he had skipped out of heaven for countless years. Fundamentally, he could still be the same little nerdy angel, but things always had a way of changing, especially considering the recent years. Just about anything could happen.

Sam shook his head. “Nothing, really,” he replied, and Gabriel could hear the honesty in his voice and sense that Sam wasn't lying. “It's just... it’s nice to see somebody else other than Balthazar helping him out. It's been hard on him, you know?”

Gabriel snorted. “Well, it would help if you and Dean-o tried to understand him a little better. You all haven't been really chummy with each other, I noticed.”

“Yeah, well,” Sam shifted uneasily, guilt flashing across his face again. “It's just been hard on us all.”

“That isn't a reason for you idiots to continue playing Cold War with Cas,” the archangel found himself snapping out before he could help it, scowling fiercely. Thinking about how Castiel was putting himself up against Raphael, remembering how he worked with _Crowley_ of all people and just—he couldn't bear to think about it, not after what had happened earlier today. “What he needs is support, and none of you are giving that to him.” 

Sam blinked at the sudden outburst, just as surprised as Gabriel himself was at his own lack of control. The archangel instantly fell quiet, flinching when the human took a step closer again and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it in a gesture of assurance. “That's why it’s a good thing that you're here,” he said, a small smile touching his lips. “You're his brother after all. Family means everything.”

“The classic Winchester creed,” Gabriel returned in a mutter, knowing just how true that held for him now.

Sam's smile widened ever so slightly at the words, amusement gleaming in his eyes. “Well, I guess that just means you're part of the family now.”

It was just Loki going along with them this time, since there were matters back in Heaven that Castiel needed to attend to, and considering how things were going at the moment, Gabriel knew that it was important that Cas go and settle them. Still, he couldn’t help but be worried about the lesser angel—with the angel's arrangement with Crowley now broken, only Father knew how he was going to be able to win against Raphael. The pagan gods did promise their help, but… Gabriel knew he had to be realistic here; there was no way that the gods would ever be capable of overpowering the angels entirely. The Trickster was most likely the only one with enough juice to turn the tides in their favour, but she had a no interference clause slapped on her (as the girl constantly pointed out to all of them). Dean might bitch all day about it, but the bottom line was that she could not help, and Gabriel knew that she was already doing everything within her capacity.

Still, he certainly hadn’t expected her to actually turn to _Jack Crow_ of all people to aid them; Crow was nothing but an enigma to the gods, almost an alien to Loki herself. Like Gabriel he, too, fell under the Trickster’s law and thus couldn’t refute the Trickster’s command, but even Loki had admitted before that Crow was one of her harder subjects to understand. He had never made trouble, not really, but… well, ‘eccentric’ would be one way to describe him. Gabriel had only ever met him a few times under the mantle of Loki, but even then the other god had unsettled him in ways he couldn’t really describe.

Discomfort was written all over Loki’s face when she lowered her hand, having snapped all of them to their destination. The sun beat down heavily upon them, and Gabriel was already finding himself starting to sweat profusely; around them were nothing but dark-skinned people hustling along the streets, and some of them turned to pause at the abrupt appearance of four very light-skinned people.

Sam frowned, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the sun. “Where are we?”

Loki made another face, and Gabriel could sense the other’s pure irritation at the location they were in. “Congo,” was her eventual response.

The one-word answer instantly caused Dean to jerk his head towards the girl, eyes wide as he echoed a bit too loudly for the archangel’s tastes. “We’re in the freaking _Congo_?”

The Trickster’s expression darkened at the words, although it wasn't directed at Dean. “Should’ve known he’d pick a location like this.” She muttered before snapping her fingers again, and now Gabriel found himself swiftly cooled down, the sun no longer affecting him like before. Sam and Dean received the same treatment, judging from the surprised looks on their faces; before they could say anything however, Loki was already starting to move, pushing through the crowd as she muttered under her breath in a language nobody could make out, not even Gabriel.

Deciding to pick up the cue, Gabriel turned around and gestured for the Winchesters to follow him as he went after Loki, working his way through the crowd as well, and trying to ignore the many stares he was getting as they moved along.

“What kind of asshole picks a place like this to set up shop for whatever the hell he's doing?” the archangel heard Dean muttering behind him, the words more likely directed towards Sam rather than him.

Sam frowned. “Somebody who doesn’t want to set up shop, I suppose.”

Gabriel decided to be nice for once and fill in the details for them. “Or somebody who likes a place with a lot of dying people.”

Dean blinked at the answer, clearly not getting it, but Sam on the other hand frowned even deeper and Gabriel could almost hear the gears starting to clink around in that giant head of his. “Conflict materials,” Sam stated, although that didn’t really help in lessening Dean’s confusion over the entire issue, as evidenced by the deepening frown.

“That’s just one of the things, Gigantor,” Gabriel returned with a small, wry smile. “But let’s not go into the grisly details. Bottom line is that a lot of people die here, and that makes Crow a happy guy since it makes his job easier.” He paused for a moment, speaking up again before Dean could ask the budding question. “You remember what Loki said yesterday?”

Sam nodded, and quoted the words that Loki had told them. “ _Where everybody’s from and nobody goes, that’s where you’re gonna find Jack’s crows._ ” The younger human blinked and inclined his head. “What does it mean, anyway?”

“It means what it means, Sam,” the archangel replied, politely easing through the crowd still (with some aid of his still-recovering powers). “Crow’s… well, Crow’s kind of in a unique position. Technically he falls under the Trickster’s law, but he’s also more than that. You guys know about psychopomps, right?”

Dean let out a snort at the question. “Considering that we’ve all died at some point or another already, yeah, I think we know them well enough by now.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Very funny, Dean-o. Point is, Crow—he’s something of a psychopomp himself. ‘ _Where everybody comes from and nobody goes_ ’, I quote.”

“So… what?” Sam, asking with a rather skeptical look on his face. “Does he bring souls to Heaven or Hell or something?”

“Not exactly.” Now Gabriel had an inkling of why Loki wasn’t so keen on going to see Crow, considering the situation. “You know that old folktale about storks bringing babies overnight? It’s something like that, only with souls rather than magically appearing kids.” The blinks from both Winchesters signalled Gabriel that he had effectively lost them there. The archangel sighed and rebooted his explanation. “Well, you know how angels are made—we’re built with nothing but Grace, and through the Host we’re sustained. Demons are just humans with their humanity torn out of ‘em. The pagan gods are built on the beliefs and thoughts of the people who worship them. Point is, each and every being always has a point of origin.” He paused for a moment, letting the brothers take it all in properly before he went on. “Humans, though—human souls are special. I mean, heck, almost everything supernatural is all built on the power of human souls, as you might have noticed. Ghosts, demons, wendigos, werewolves, vampires; they all come from the human soul in some shape or form.”

Gabriel could tell that Dean was completely lost already (not that the guy was ever one for brains anyway) but Sam was getting it pretty quickly, nodding cautiously to the archangel’s words. “So, the human souls…”

“They’ve got to come from somewhere, right?” Gabriel pointed out, looking at both Sam and Dean. “I mean, Dad isn’t around after all, but humans are still being born every second; sure, there’s reincarnation, but not every soul’s doing that. There are still souls being born even as we speak.”

“So the place they’re born—” Sam started, but Gabriel quickly cut him off.

“You forgot the quote, Gigantor. ‘ _Where’s everybody’s from and nobody goes_ ’. They meant it literally. Not even I know where the human souls come from.” The archangel let out a small huff of breath and turned around, seeing the end of the crowd they’d been working through. “But basically Crow and the guys with him are in charge of carrying those souls to the people assigned to receive them. It’s a job nobody wants to mess with.” And now with the end of the world averted, Gabriel can only wonder how the guy was even working now. Was he still doing the same old things, or did anything change since the almost-Apocalypse? He supposed he would find out the answer to that soon enough.

“I still don’t get how this links to the dude being in a shitty place like this,” Dean spoke up, scowling. 

Gabriel rolled his eyes again. “The cycle, Dean-o. Where there’s creation there’ll also be destruction,” He gestured towards their surroundings, “And where else to be in the hotspot for destruction but here? Death happens just about every second in this place. Crow is more than just a name, Dean. It’s who he literally _is_.”

Right after he said that there was the screeching cry of a crow, and the three of them raised their heads to see one flying past them, its jet-black feathers a stark contrast to the pale blue skies. It was an eerie sight in its own right, and trying to ignore the small chill that ran down his spine after that was next to impossible to accomplish. Gabriel made it a point to quickly look back down, going through the last of the crowd so that he could break out of the people, and into the outskirts of the town they were in. Loki was waiting for the three of them when they emerged out into the open, a small smile on her face.

“Now that we’re all on the same page,” she went, the smile only growing wider before the girl turned around to face one of the tumbled down buildings standing nearby, “Be sure to keep your pants on. We’re going in.”

The icy chillness of the inside was a stark contrast to the blistering heat they had been in just moments earlier. It wasn’t any natural draft that Gabriel knew of—he felt a shiver rippling through his body, his Grace doing nothing to block out the cold and frost as it went all the way into his bones and his Grace. Beside him Dean and Sam hardly looked any better and even Loki didn’t look too comfortable with the rapid shift in temperature.

Dean was the one who put two and two together, outright scowling as he hissed out through a wisp of smoke. “Fucking _Hell_.”

Who knew that Hell actually wasn’t all about the fire and brimstone it was cracked up to be? Gabriel certainly had no idea, and neither did Sam from the confused look on his face—although Dean was a different matter entirely judging from the dark look on his face. Still, it looked like the memories of Hell weren’t coming back to the younger Winchester, which the archangel supposed was a good thing. Considering how he had been locked in with Michael and Lucifer, Gabriel didn't even want to think about the things that his brothers might have done to Sam, what with the aversion of the Apocalypse and all that.

There was minimal light shining inside the building, making it hard to see (the mist lurking around their surroundings wasn’t helping with things either), and Gabriel had to squint as he trailed behind Loki, the Trickster cautiously making her way through pieces of half-rotten wood, as brittle bones crunched under her feet. Around them were crows of every shape and size and species, hanging from every available space and Gabriel could feel each and every one of their eyes watching them in silence. It was a starling contrast to the constant cawing humans knew them so much better for, and if he had to be honest the silence unsettled Gabriel badly. It was just… too unnatural, even for him.

The Winchesters seemed to have the same idea too, wary eyes darting across the room as they kept their gazes on the crows. Loki continued forward, leading the two humans and one archangel towards their destination in the inappropriately-sized house—Gabriel was pretty certain that the house looked way smaller on the outside.

“Are we there yet?” he heard Dean hiss out behind him, not even bothering to hide his irritation at the moment. Not that anybody could blame him, what with the unearthly cold and all.

“Almost,” was Loki’s returning mutter much to the trio’s surprise, but there was no time to dwell on said surprise as the Trickster quickened her pace, and they hurried to follow behind her. The litter of rotten wood and fragile bones lessened with each step they took now, and the mist cleared up as well. Gabriel found himself no longer breathing out steam through his nose, when they arrived at a space cleared of all the debris they had been trampling on, blinking as he stared at the shadowed figure hunched on a rickety old stool. The Trickster swung out an arm in the universal gesture for the three to stand back, before stepping closer to the figure, clearing her throat.

There was a moment’s pause before she spoke, her voice clear and sharp. “Jack Crow.”

At first, there was no response, the silence stretching on with nothing but the sound of their breathing filling in the quiet. At the corner of his eye Gabriel could see Dean’s short-temper growing thin, and the man was just about to open his mouth when the figure shifted without warning, the rustling of cloth breaking the stillness of the moment when tattered coattails flopped down behind. The archangel could hear bones popping in their joints—as if stiff from disuse—as bare feet planted themselves onto the ground, tones curling against the dirt. The tarnished gleam of old war medals winked and clinked quietly from above the breast pocket of the old military coat the god was wearing as Jack Crow straightened himself on the stool, although his head was still lowered.

Loki only watched impassively as the shadows gave way to the figure, only speaking up a few beats after silence fell in the room again. “Jack Crow,” she repeated, the sharp tone returning. It was pretty clear in just what capacity the girl was speaking under—not Loki the Norse god, but rather the god cast down to Earth, the Trickster herself.

A longer silence passed, and Loki seemed to be about to speak again when the head of the psychopomp shifted and the figure spoke; his voice a quiet, hollow rasp. “One, two, the Trickster’s coming for you.”

Gabriel and the Winchesters paused at the strangeness of his words, not at all certain what to make of it, but Loki only closed her eyes and let out a loud breath before speaking. “Three, four, better lock the door.”

Jack Crow’s head inclined, and the amusement bled into his next words. “Five and six, grab a crucifix.”

“Seven for the brace of an oncoming storm.” Maybe it was just him, but he was certain he could hear a hard edge creeping into the tone of Loki’s voice. It was hard to make out.

“Eight for salvation and nine of redemption.” The figure of Jack Crow shifted, and he tilted his head just enough again for Gabriel to make out the faint outline of a fedora hat over his head, the jet-black of the material having blended almost perfectly with the dim lighting of the place.

Loki sighed once more. “And ten for the deliverance of all,” she finished, and then a weak smile graced her features. “Had enough fun yet, Jack?”

Jack Crow raised his head now, unruly bangs doing little to conceal the unearthly glow of crimson red eyes that gleamed with the disconcerting colour of freshly-spilled blood. He looked disarmingly young, with the features of a boy who looked as if he hadn’t even gone through puberty yet. It was a stark contrast to the wry, all-knowing smile that crossed his features as his eyes flickered across all four of them, before they finally settled upon Loki. “Trickster,” he rasped once more, the smile growing wider as the eyes properly studied her now. “You looked better with pink hair, I think.”

“Green’s the new in,” the Trickster replied easily, the small smile still fixed on her face.

The smile on Jack Crow’s face, however, only grew wider. “It’ll look better when there’s blood streaked in it. I’m still looking forward to Pompeii version two.”

Both brothers’ eyes were as wide as saucers now, and it would honestly have been amusing if it wasn’t for the fact that this was _Pompeii_ that was being talked about. Gabriel knew about Pompeii, alright—he had been there when it happened, after all.

The Trickster merely shrugged, a sheepish expression replacing the smile. “Not one of my better moments, I’ll admit.”

Crow made a small snort. “I liked it better when you didn’t care about the world,” he muttered, the hoarseness of his voice adding a distinct otherworldly quality to his words. “I suppose it’s to be expected though. Things always change.” He flicked his gaze at the girl again, adding quietly. “Even gods.”

An uncomfortable look crossed Loki's face—Gabriel raised an eyebrow at that, but he knew how unsettling Jack Crow could be, so he didn't say anything—but the girl quickly shook it off, going back to the topic at hand. “I didn’t come here to reminisce about the past, Crow,” the girl started as she turned her gaze back to the rumpled, almost frail-looking figure who was in reality so much more than he looked. “You know what I’m here for.”

The boy dipped his head, eyes gleaming once more. “Phoenixes,” he replied easily, and then the smile was back in full force. “I’ll be glad to hold one again when the time comes. They’re so rare, even to me.” His eyes flickered upwards to the roof and back down again. “Constantly reincarnating for years and years until time collapses upon them. It’s always such a delight to see that happen.”

Sam took a step forward then. “Until time collapses upon them?” he asked with a frown. Gabriel almost felt like smacking the giant idiot. There were just some things that Sam needed to shut up about, even with his eternal curiosity about things.

Still if anything the boy only seemed amused, and his crimson eyes sparkled in barely-disguised amusement. “Immortality is only a concept, Sam Winchester, and nothing more. Eternity died the moment Heaven lied, and Heaven lied from the moment it existed. Nothing really lives forever.”

“Death lives forever,” Dean blurted out, and Gabriel wondered if he could smack _both_ of them. Father, did those two have a constant death wish or something? One did not just talk back to Jack Crow like this, not unless they both were willing to give up their lives _again_.

Crow turned his eyes towards Dean now, and it was impossible not to miss the bright twinkle in his eyes, as the boy broke into a brilliant smile that nearly split his face into two. “The Righteous Man,” he breathed out, voice filled with some parts of awe and quiet mirth. He lowered his head, the brim of his fedora obscuring his eyes as the psychopomp studied the human for a long moment before speaking up. “Over thirty years since I last carried your soul out from the Void, and still it shines as brightly as the day I just plucked it out from the roost.” He raised his head back up, the smile from earlier now shifting into something much darker. “I wonder if it’ll still shine as brightly when I take it back once your time comes.”

Dean shifted uneasily, clearly unsettled by the words, but still put on a false bravado and replied. “Nobody’s going to be plucking my soul out anytime soon, bird brain.”

The smile Dean got in response was clearly placating. “For now.”

Gabriel decided to cut in before things could get any worse. “Crow.”

And now the red eyes were onto him, the intensity and unnaturalness of it making him uncomfortable. “Loki,” the boy murmured, inclining his head as he blinked. “Or would you be more comfortable with Gabriel again?”

“I’m taking up the position of Loki for the moment,” the Trickster supplied helpfully, filling in the crushing silence Gabriel felt after the question.

“I see,” Crow returned simply, never tearing his gaze away from Gabriel, who only shifted just a little bit awkwardly under the steadiness of those eyes. The archangel felt oddly naked under the other’s gaze, as if the other was seeing right into him and wordlessly picking him apart. It was not a very nice feeling to experience, considering the fact that it was usually him who was doing the picking apart bit of things. 

Sam was the one who broke past the odd tenseness of the moment, clearing his throat as he spoke up to get the god’s attention. “So, err—phoenix ashes.”

Crow held his gaze on Gabriel for just a moment more before he turned to regard the younger Winchester, head inclined once more. “I do not just give things lightly, Sam Winchester,” he spoke, one eyebrow raised. 

The statement caused everyone to frown while Dean muttered a vaguely-appropriate ‘fucking gods’ under his breath, earning the flash of another amused smile from Crow before the psychopomp explained. “All is equal in the eyes of death; I will be willing to give if I receive something of equal value.” He swept his crimson eyes across the four, the smile reappearing on his face when it came to Dean and he spoke up abruptly. “Souls hold no value to me, Righteous Man, so you need not worry. I will not take any from you.”

Dean made a start, clearly surprised at the words and Gabriel didn’t need to be a mind-reader to know what Dean had been thinking. It was mildly insulting, thinking that all deals only ever involved souls. As much as they were not angels or monsters, pagan gods were also most certainly not demons, thank you very much. Still, he suppressed the snort threatening to come out of him as Crow turned away from the elder human to lay his gaze properly on Loki, smile widening. “Trickster,” he rasped again, and Gabriel wasn’t sure if he liked the mirth lacing the edges of the other’s voice. It was... worrying.

Loki’s own sudden desire to stare down and shuffle her feet, as if she had been caught with her hand in the cookie jar, wasn’t making things any easier either. “What?” she replied, only after a few moments had passed. The other three all turned to look at her with a fair amount of uncertainty. 

Crow’s unsettling smile only grew wider. “Show me.”

The girl turned her head away—a gesture that only made Gabriel worry even more. Since when did the Trickster feel shame? “Do I have to?” she asked, and it was impossible not to hear the quiet deflection that she tried to put in there.

“There is nothing else I see of worth at this moment,” the psychopomp answered, cloth rustling in the background as he settled himself properly on the stool he was on. “The wound of a god, Trickster. I wish to see it only and nothing more.”

Gabriel only barely caught the brothers’ mouthing of ‘wound of a god?’ to each other; the archangel himself frowned, trying to figure out just what was Crow going on about. ‘Wound of a god’? Was there something that Loki—the Trickster—had that Crow wanted to see that much? More and more, Gabriel felt the uneasiness within him increasing. What was going on here?

Loki let out a loud breath through her nose before speaking. “Just a look?”

“Nothing more,” Crow replied. “I promise.”

“Loki—” Gabriel found himself starting to speak, finding himself trying to stop whatever it was that the Trickster was trying to do. He had known the other for years on end, had been with her for so long while she roamed the Earth as the nameless god. It was just wrong now to see her brought to this, to see her coming to deals and exchanges in order to make things work. She was much more than that, Gabriel knew without a doubt. If only he wasn’t so useless.

“Don’t start blaming yourself, Gabe,” Loki went, the clarity of her voice cutting through Gabriel’s thoughts, and the archangel directed his gaze to look at the other’s clear emerald eyes. “I made this decision. None of this is your fault.”

Gabriel opened his mouth again in a bid to respond, but he felt a hand on his shoulder holding him back, and the archangel turned to see Sam now standing behind him, shaking his head silently. The uneasiness rose and Gabriel bit down on his bottom lip, turning back towards Loki who was reaching down for the ends of her shirt, fingers curling almost hesitantly over the hem. The Trickster stilled, looking up again to sweep her eyes across the room before landing her gaze back to Crow.

“Just a look,” the god assured, smile never leaving his face.

Loki sighed and closed her eyes, tightening her hold on the hem for a moment longer before she pulled it up, and the sight that greeted Gabriel was an unexpected one.

Across her belly, up her bellybutton and then beyond was a thick, ugly scar. The skin had healed messily, a giant keloid marking where the scar was. It started just a bit above her bellybutton, cutting at the side of it before going down to disappear beneath the hem of her jeans. Considering everything Gabriel had seen in his existence, the scar by itself was nothing terrifying—it was normal looking by all means—but seeing it on the _Trickster_ was a jarring image. She was supposed to be flawless, untouched by man and everything in existence even when she was chained to the world; but yet here she was now, standing before them all sporting such a large scar that should never even be there in the first place.

Gabriel was just as shocked as the Winchesters were and it showed on their faces as Crow's smile widened, leaning forward on his rickety stool. It creaked as the boy wavered forward, leaning ever closer so that he could study the scar in detail.

"The wound of a god," Crow breathed out in an almost reverent tone, eyes sweeping down the scar.

Loki shifted uneasily; clearly not comfortable with the situation and at how she was being looked at by the other god. "You done looking?" she asked gruffly, emerald eyes flickering everywhere and never resting for even a moment. It was a strange gesture of discomfort, but one that Gabriel could see all the same. The discomfort confused the archangel however; there was no reason why the Trickster would be so uncomfortable. A scar was merely nothing but a scar after all, although its existence was worrisome enough. What could have been so powerful that it was able to injure Loki like that? There was hardly anything in existence that was stronger than the Trickster—

Gabriel froze, blood turning as cold as ice when realization clicked in his mind. There was hardly any being in this universe that had the power to scar the Trickster like that, not unless… Gabriel jerked his head up to look at Loki's apologetic look, the Trickster already having figured out what the archangel would realize as she made a tiny nod and dropped the hem of her shirt back down. Gabriel closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath, attempting to keep himself together under Sam's worried gaze and Dean's own scowl while Crow rocked back on the stool and let his smile widen.

"A sight that I'll make sure not to forget," the boy spoke, amusement gleaming in his crimson eyes while he laid his gaze on Gabriel once more, and the next words he spoke struck the archangel more than anything else ever had. "You should treasure your chance wisely, Messenger of Heaven."

Gabriel could only find the strength to nod, all other energy washed out from him at the moment, due to the painful realization that had settled within him. There was only one way for the Trickster to have such a wound, and that would be only if the Trickster _had done it to herself_. And there would only be one reason as to why the girl would injure herself to the point where the wound wasn't healing, why she even was in a vessel in the first place—she didn't have the energy to do it. He hated how his mind was already putting things together beyond his control, seeing the points as he recalled what Castiel had told him, back when the angel first examined his Grace.

_I had felt traces of some sort of power when I reached into you, but it dissipated as soon as I was close enough to attempt and make out its origin. I’m not sure why it was there, but I think it was keeping you together until I interfered._

There was no mistaking where that power came from now, and who was the being that had brought him back to life.

Gabriel turned to look at Loki, watching the girl bite her lower lip again and tuck her hands into the pockets of her pants, pointedly keeping her gaze away from him while she talked. “I’ve done my part, Crow. Time to fulfill your end of the bargain.”

Crow raised his head and smiled. “Of course.” That said he lifted up a hand and snapped his fingers; at the moment he did that the mist _shifted_ , wind howling in Gabriel’s ears as the mist swirled, condensed itself into a tight ball that floated within the open palm of the boy’s hand. Up in the rafters the crows kept up their silent vigil, the sound of rustling wings being the one sign of their existence within the building. 

His gaze set on the Winchesters, the psychopomp spoke. “On March 5, 1861 in Sunrise, Wyoming, a phoenix was shot and killed, leaving nothing but a pile of smouldering ash to be sent flying in the wind.” The ball of mist in his hand pulsed then, and Gabriel felt the tendrils of power now surging from Crow and starting to wrap around the insubstantial thing. “I gathered the ashes from the four corners of the earth with my flock and kept it, and now I pass it onto you.” The power flared, and the mist abruptly burst from his hand in a rush of wind, the force of it causing Gabriel to squeeze his eyes shut. When he opened his eyes once more there was a small, old and tattered bag sitting in his palm, where the ball of mist once was. Crow was smiling as he shifted his hand, grabbing the bag by its end and holding it out to the two humans. “It should be enough for at least a handful of bullets.” A small quirk of lips, “Use them wisely.”

Dean stared at Crow for a moment before reaching out and swiping the bag into his hand. “You don’t need to tell us that.”

“Perhaps,” Crow replied, voice even and neutral while he lowered his hand back down, red eyes still gleaming mysteriously as he turned back to Loki and inclined his head towards her. “I’ve done my part, Trickster. The rest is in your hands.” He paused, tilting his head to the other side instead and the unsettling smile was back on his face. “Or well, as deep as you’re allowed to put your hands in this.”

“The balance,” Loki returned with a small sigh, still keeping her gaze away from the archangel, but Gabriel could hear the weariness and resignation in her voice. “You don’t need to tell me.”

The smile turned wry, and under the bangs of his unruly black hair the psychopomp blinked his crimson eyes at her, voice dropping to a rasp once more. “Just one little tilt and the balance will shatter. Remember that, Trickster.” 

Gabriel watched Loki turn her head away to avoid Crow’s gaze, green eyes fixed on the cracks on the wall instead as she answered. “I know, Crow. I know.”

It took the archangel momentous effort to not simply shove Loki against the nearest wall and demand answers from the moment they returned, hardly caring about the fact that this was the Trickster he was trying to question. Instead Gabriel waited until the three hunters were down in the panic room, busy making the bullets, before he finally had his chance to confront the girl, cornering her before she could turn tail and leave.

“Loki,” he started, voice low and harsh and demanding. 

The Trickster, of course, quickly cut him off. “Don’t start, Gabe,” she spoke, and Gabriel didn’t want to see how her shoulders were sagging, to notice the weariness that was in her eyes and on her face, as the Trickster finally dropped the mask she had been putting up for so long. He could sense the shift, feel the change in the atmosphere as Loki dropped the glamour and looked at him with eyes that were far too tired and exhausted and devoid of all the usual cheer that the girl had.

There were so many things that Gabriel could say now to what he saw and what he could figure out in those moments, but all he could do was to clench one fist into the collar of Loki’s jacket and dig his fingers into the fabric, shaking the girl as he breathed out the question in a near whisper. “Why? Why me?”

“Why not?” the Trickster returned as the corners of her lips curled up in a small, wry smile. “I thought you would have liked another shot at living again.”

Gabriel only growled and tightened his hold on the girl. “Why me?” he asked again, the question now coming out in a snarl.

Loki, however, remained unaffected by the archangel’s fierceness, staying placid even as the wry smile stretched further. “Why _not_ you?” she returned evenly, her emerald eyes unblinking. 

“You—” he started, trying to find something—anything—to say in response, only falling silent as the Trickster reached up to grab at the wrist closest to her, fingers curling around the joint that attached hand to arm. 

The girl kept quiet for a long moment before she spoke. “I wanted you to live, Gabe.”

Gabriel had to blink at that; it was not an answer he had been expecting. “What…?” His fingers slackened out of surprise at the response, loosening his hold on Loki and the girl took advantage of that, prying the archangel’s hand away from her entirely. Gabriel knew he should be annoyed at that, yet he couldn’t find it within himself to do anything about it. His arm flopped back to his side, dangling.

Loki took a moment to straighten herself back up, but her gaze refused to meet Gabriel’s and the girl pointedly glanced away as she explained herself. “During the Apocalypse… you gave up yourself to go against the brother you loved so much, Gabe, and then you died for it. It was… I couldn’t bear the loss.” A pained look crossed her face, lips pursed into a tight little smile as her eyes flickered downwards. “Since the big guy already brought back Castiel before, it was only fair that I got to pick an angel of my own as well to resurrect. Although, I guess bringing back an archangel isn’t exactly the same as bringing back a normal little angel.” It was impossible to ignore the morbid humor that had seeped into her words at the end, and the flash of something that crossed the Trickster’s face.

The archangel in question sucked in a deep breath before he could bring himself to ask for more of the story. “Then, in that other world…”

“I put you there,” the girl admitted without even blinking. “Even after using my own energy, I didn’t have enough power to bring you back into the world entirely. Besides, after Lucifer, I thought you would have liked living a normal life. The other you there wasn’t doing so well, so…” She paused to shrug, a perfectly human gesture. “I just did the best I could in that situation. It wasn’t perfect, but it worked. You were alive and well, and that was what I wanted.”

“Did anybody else know what you did?” Gabriel found himself asking, now wondering just how everybody would take the news that the _Trickster_ had brought him back to life with pieces of herself. It was… it wasn’t just something that anyone would do, and Gabriel couldn’t help but wonder just what he had done to deserve something like that. He knew how pathetic he was, how much of a coward he truly was, but despite all of that, she had put him back together at such a high cost. He didn’t deserve this.

Loki shook her head. “Nobody besides the ones who would sense it, I guess,” the wry smile was back on her face again, eyes gleaming in dark amusement. “I had no intention of contacting you, or having you come here. I was actually surprised when you suddenly contacted me again.”

And yeah, Gabriel could now finally place what had been the strange emotion in the girl’s voice when he had contacted her that day, after Balthazar had gotten the things for him and he had performed the ritual. He remembered the momentary wide-eyed look that Loki had given him then, the flash of surprise he had thought to come from the discovery that he was alive. But it wasn’t that—she would have known of his survival as the Trickster, now that he thought about it. She was surprised because he was _here_ , in this world, instead of the one she had brought him to upon his resurrection. 

“The remnants of your Grace must have drawn them over,” Loki spoke up, answering the question that was blossoming in Gabriel’s mind. “When Balthazar cast his spell and sent them away from this world, the Winchesters were drawn to the shards of Grace that you still had and landed where you were then; they’re the vessels of Michael and Lucifer, after all.” She sighed then, the ancient weariness settling across her inappropriately young features. 

A realization settled in the archangel right there and then, and Gabriel’s eyes widened as he looked at Loki, his lips moving as he breathed out the words in shock. “You’re helping because of me.”

The suddenness of those words made Loki pause for a moment, silent and still and maybe just as surprised as Gabriel himself was—but then soon it passed and the girl suddenly burst into laughter, loud and brilliant and near-hysterical at the same time. Tears clung to the corners of her eyes and for a moment the Trickster truly looked more like the vessel she inhabited now rather than the cruel, callous, frightening god that had been cast down to earth to stay amongst man. Gabriel made a startled sound himself, confused and surprised at the sudden outburst of amusement that came from the Trickster, staying still for fear of risking the false god’s wrath. Finally, when the laughter had subsided and Loki was left heaving against the wall to catch her breath, then did Gabriel take his chances, reaching out for the girl and asking softly, “…Loki?”

And just like that the Trickster’s mask suddenly _broke_ and the heaves became quiet sobs, the girl’s breaths choking as she trembled with the effort of not breaking down. Her lips quivered, and Gabriel watched as she struggled to speak, so overwhelmed with the abrupt strength of her feelings. “You _idiot_ ,” she breathed out, voice hitching ever so slightly. “Can’t you see? It’s always been about _you_.”

Something cold gripped him tight there and then, and Gabriel almost lacked the courage to ask, so hesitant he was in hearing the answer. “What about me?”

The Trickster raised her head so that she could stare at the archangel, eyes brimming with unshed tears as she looked at him almost like how a mother would have to her own son. “The big guy isn’t the only one allowed to play favourites,” she replied mirthlessly, her gaze flicking for a moment to elsewhere, as if remembering a memory from a time long past. “From the Beginning, you’ve always been mine.” An almost cruel smile twisted across her lips. “The angel who left Heaven and became a Trickster. You are worth so much more than you can imagine.”

Gabriel tried to say something, to say a hundred witty comebacks and subtle denials in order to deny all this greatness thrust upon him—a greatness he didn’t _deserve_ and didn’t _need_ , not after what he had done—but Loki continued to speak, talking before the archangel could cut him off. “You are kind, Gabriel, kinder than anything I can imagine. You love even more than what Michael or Lucifer or Raphael can ever hope to manage. You love all of them so much that it hurts to stand up against them, but yet you still do it because you care.” Loki’s eyes were quiet but focused, reading Gabriel and his countless layers like a book. “You left and you’ve always felt guilty about it, but you pretend not to care until the Winchesters showed you otherwise. And then you hoped, just a little, and that was enough for you do what you needed to do.”

“Stop,” Gabriel managed to get out, his voice weak even to his own ears. He didn’t need to hear all of this, this psychoanalysis from the Trickster of all people. This was what _Dean_ needed, not him. He wasn’t some idiot who gave himself up so readily or would trade his soul in a heartbeat for his little brother. It had always just been about him and the world around him and nothing else other than that. He wasn’t some stupid, self-sacrificing idiot. He wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t even an angel now.

The girl didn’t stop, and only kept on talking, her voice getting stronger and louder with each word. “You are worth so much more, Gabriel, more than you can imagine. “And that was enough for me to bring you back. You didn’t deserve a death like that, not by Lucifer’s hand.”

 _But I did deserve it,_ the archangel instantly thought to himself, but nothing could come out from his throat and Gabriel could only stare at Loki, seeing the Trickster’s eyes gleam weakly as the girl gave him a small but true smile.

“Treasure this, Gabriel,” she spoke, already raising her hand and pressing the tips of her thumb and middle finger together. “I just want you to be happy again.”

“Loki—” Gabriel started to say, but the Trickster had already vanished with a snap of her fingers, leaving nothing but silence behind her.


	11. tenth act

**X: tenth act—your hand in mine.**

As an angel—an archangel, even—there were few things that could slow him down, much less stop him. Any demon standing up against him would be destroyed in an instant, much less any human. Hit him with a blade and he would heal in a second; shoot him down and he would get back up in the next moment. Cut a limb or his head off? Well, he'd just grow it back—or get it reattached to his body, whichever freaked the attacker out more. Point of the fact was, despite bailing out of Heaven and spending a good deal of time on Earth as Loki he was still Gabriel the archangel, the renowned messenger of Heaven. If he desired to do so Gabriel could still bring down the wrath of Heaven on any assholes that deserved it—the power had always been at his fingertips, lingering around the pagan magic that marked him as the Norse god of mischief.

But now? Now he wasn't even Loki, wasn't even Gabriel—he was just a shadow of the Trickster he used to be, not even a fragment of the powerful archangel so feared by men and demons and beast alike. There was nothing about him now that could compare to the might he used to have, the strength he had up until Lucifer turned around and twisted Gabriel's hand around to plunge the archangel's blade through himself. He remembered how much it had _hurt_ , the white-hot pain of the sword cutting right into his Grace and shattering it into a million tiny pieces. He recalled the look on Lucifer's face, the strange expression of sorrow-regret that was on the fallen Morningstar that stayed unchanging even as it vanished under the blinding flare of his burning, shattered Grace while Gabriel's own world had grown dark.

Dark like how the sky outside was now, the archangel thought wryly to himself as he snorted and looked down, away from the window and at the bottle of whiskey he was holding in his hand, ignoring the gleam of several other similar (and also empty) bottles at the table as he raised the one in his hand and put the mouth to his lips, drinking down the alcohol without a second thought and relishing the way the drink burned down his throat, sliding down into his belly and warming it up.

“Gabriel.”

The archangel pointedly ignored the call of his name, taking another swig of whiskey before he paused to pop a sweet into his mouth and toss the wrapper on the table, where similar ones littered the surface, taking up whatever space the bottles were not filling up. Gabriel crunched the candy with his molars, the sound loud enough to drown out the frustrated voice calling out his name repeatedly, for the moment. He didn't need anybody to come and check on him, didn't need anybody to come in and be all concerned about him because they _pitied_ him; he was Gabriel the archangel, one of Heaven's most powerful warriors. He was—

Castiel stepped forward and reached out with his hand to pry away the bottle that was in Gabriel's hand, and the archangel couldn't even find the strength to try and resist. His fingers instantly loosened, falling away as Castiel took the bottle and placed it on the table gently, wrappers crinkling as they shifted across the surface.

Without the bottle now, Gabriel had his head down, staring at the shadowed ground at his feet and determined to ignore how the world was blurring at its edges, a sign of his growing intoxication. How many bottles he had drunk, the archangel didn't know—but he knew for a fact that the number shouldn't have brought him down like this already, should not be able to reduce him to this state when he used to drink so much more. Yet another reminder of the things he used to have but had now lost, of times Gabriel knew he would never be able to recover no matter how much he missed it. Even if he got his powers back, nothing would be the same—the pagans now knew who he was, the Apocalypse had come and gone, Michael and Lucifer were locked in the Cage and Raphael would have changed too much from the Healer he once was. The world had changed after his passing; nothing would ever be the same, and Gabriel could never be who he was again.

In front of him he heard the sound of Castiel shifting, the angel's shoes thumping against the wooden floorboards as he stepped closer to Gabriel. Hands gripped his shoulders and Castiel shook him gently, speaking to Gabriel softly. “Brother, please.”

The archangel snorted in response, not even bothering to raise his head. “You don't need to pacify me, Cas.” He knew where he stood now.

“I do not see what you find so distressing,” the angel replied, his voice still soft. “The Trickster deemed you worthy enough to bring you back and help you when you asked for her services. She has told you how much she cares for you. Just what is the problem here?”

Gabriel couldn't even find the energy to be surprised at the fact that Castiel had overheard Loki's words to him, only keeping his gaze stubbornly on the ground. Why the hell did Loki have to bring him back? Just because she favored him, she _pitied_ him? He didn't need that—he never wanted to be pitied by people. It made him look weak, and weak was the last thing that he should be. He was an archangel.

Had been an archangel.

Once he was one of the strongest things in this world, strong enough to carve out his own path and be able to live the life he wanted for himself. But now here he was, barely even a shadow of what he used to be. It was sickening to realize that, to know just how weak he was and how much he had to depend on other people now, when going solo was what he did best. Up until the Winchesters he had his own little corner of the world, his private witness protection; but now all of that was gone, everything burned to the ground, leaving him with nothing but a dry husk of what he once was.

Castiel shook him again, the action pulling him out from his thoughts and he heard the angel calling his name again, the tone of his voice much more insistent than before. Gabriel didn't respond and there was a pause, but then came the sound of rustling, and then he felt the points of Castiel's elbows rub against his knees as the angel moved to kneel, lowering himself so that he could look at Gabriel better and be closer to him. Instead of the floor the archangel was now staring at the rumpled pants that Jimmy Novak wore, looking exactly the same as the day when the man wore them and said 'yes' to Castiel.

“Gabriel,” the angel called again, his voice rumbling; his hands moved to press against the sides of Gabriel's face, palms warm against his cheek. Gabriel couldn't muster the strength to resist how Castiel was tugging his head back up, tilting his chin so that he was staring at the angel's bright blue eyes and seeing a spark of Grace flaring within, as Castiel got rid of the alcohol running around in his system—he could tell because his mind was clearing up now and he could see the blurry edges of his vision returning to its former sharpness.

Without even thinking Gabriel moved his own hands to grasp Castiel's wrists, pulling those hands away from his face as he hissed out. “Don't, Cas.” He didn't need more people taking pity on him now. 

Castiel only shifted, moving smoothly to pry his own wrists away from Gabriel's grip and shifted so that he was holding the archangel's hands in his own, the angel's fingers lacing with his. Castiel held his hands tenderly, holding them in a way that was far too intimate for the brothers they were supposed to be. A brother that he _wasn't_ , never in the way that Michael had been for Lucifer before the Fall drove them apart. Gabriel curled his fingers as much as he was able to, trying to ignore the warmth of Castiel's hand wrapped around his.

“I will never pity you, Gabriel,” the angel spoke, voice quiet and solemn as he shifted his gaze from their hands to Gabriel himself, blue eyes boring intently into his own hazel ones. “You are worth much more than the power you once possessed.”

Gabriel knew, of course, that the words were supposed to be comforting, but he couldn't help but feel the flare of rage that passed him at Castiel's words, growling at what the angel had said. His jaw clenched, and the archangel was snapping out his response before he could stop. “Once possessed, Castiel,” he returned, his voice dripping with bitterness. “Once. Now I have nothing at all.” Even his Grace was almost gone, burned up due to constant use in the last few days. It was just a matter of time before he would be nothing more than a useless, weak human. It was pathetic.

The angel's eyes flashed at the reply, gaze hardening before Castiel suddenly moved. Gabriel didn't even have a moment to react before he was abruptly lifted out of his chair, dragged up by the angel's strength. Castiel's hands were fisted in his clothes, fingers and nails digging into the fabric of the ratty shirt he was wearing as he glared at Gabriel, the expression on his face harsh and unforgiving. 

“How long are you going to keep this up, Gabriel?” he half-shouted, half-snarled, voice rising with each word. “Such behaviour does not suit you, brother. Why are you persisting in continuing this charade?”

Gabriel couldn't help it—he laughed out a mockery of a laugh, a weak, broken chuckle that started and ended just as quickly, leaving him shaking in Castiel's grip as the archangel attempted to hold himself together, even as he felt himself start to fall apart. When he spoke his voice was bitter and twisted, every word dripping in self-loathing as he replied. “Charade, Cas? Charade?” he laughed again, tears stinging at the corners of his eyes as the hollowness of his amusement echoed in his ears. “The game's over, bro. There's no use in pretending anymore.” He was a coward and had always been a coward, even up to the point where he decided to help Sam and Dean and stand up against Lucifer. Gabriel knew there and then that he was going to die the moment he stood up against his dick of a brother, knew very well that there was no way for him to survive when he stepped into that room before Lucifer could kill Kali.

And so he had stepped in. And so he had died. And that was supposed to be the end of everything. He was just so tired of watching it all happen, tired of waiting for the day Michael and Lucifer would tear at each other's throats, tired of seeing his beloved brothers battle against each other. He couldn't bear to see it, couldn't bring himself to see the eventual end, and so he had run to his own death so that he would never have to see it. Even until the end, he had been nothing but a coward through and through.

Castiel's eyes narrowed and he tightened his grip on the archangel, refusing to let him go. “You are stronger than this, brother,” he went, the angel’s voice still so firm and certain even though Gabriel had lost all of his convictions long ago. “You are much more than this.”

The archangel only snarled and attempted to swat the hands away from him, growling back. “Stop trying to mollify me, Cas. I don’t need it.” Just like he had never needed anybody’s help, never asked to be helped; he had lived and he had died and he had never asked to be brought back into this world. It was supposed to end with him dying at Lucifer’s hand. Things would have been so much easier for everybody involved.

When had everything become so complicated?

In response to his attempted struggling Castiel only tightened his hold on the archangel even further, twisting him around so that now Gabriel was pinned to the nearest wall. The archangel grunted as his back collided with the wall, teeth gritting together as he glared at Castiel who was moving closer into his personal space, his blue eyes frigid and cold as ice. 

“Stop persisting in this childish game,” Castiel snapped back, the calm in his voice already replaced by the angel’s growing anger. “You are worth something, Gabriel. Power is not the only thing you are capable of. Throwing a tantrum will not fix anything.”

Gabriel narrowed his eyes back in turn, a snarl already rippling from the back of his throat even before the words formed in his head and he replied angrily. “Don’t presume to know anything about me, Castiel. You don’t even know the _first_ thing about who I am.” Back then the angel had been nothing but a kid—an overly curious, inquisitive kid. He knew nothing of what Gabriel had gone through, barely knew the war that ended with Michael casting Lucifer down into the pit, wouldn’t understand a single thing of what he had gone through in those times, and having to see his beloved brothers killing each other because it had been ‘destiny’.

Castiel glared back at the archangel, the look in his eyes unyielding. It was only after a moment that the angel responded, the anger from earlier now faded into something a bit more manageable, even as Gabriel heard it boiling under the surface. “I do not,” he admitted, not even blinking once as he said that. “But I understand more than any other angel what it is like losing your faith and being powerless, to be chained to the ground just as humans are.” The hard look in his eyes wavered, turning into something else that spoke of understanding and acceptance. “I know better than any other angel how it feels to have lost everything you once possessed, to have all your faith shattered and scattered to the winds.”

He knew that Castiel spoke the truth, understood where the lesser angel was coming from—but Gabriel couldn’t bring himself to care or be understanding; he didn’t want to think or ask or question. He just wanted to feel, to let out everything that had been building up inside him since only Father-knew-when. He wanted an outlet, and Castiel was providing it. “We’re not the same, Cas,” he hissed out, spitting the words through his teeth. “You’ll never understand me.”

“I am trying to,” the angel replied, leaning even closer towards Gabriel, their noses almost brushing against each other. Up this close Gabriel could see each shade of blue in Castiel’s eyes, and see light and shadow playing across his irises. “But you never seem to let anybody in. Why do you keep distancing yourself from everybody? Are you that afraid of letting go again?”

The words stung more than Gabriel could bring himself to admit, and the archangel flinched as if he had been slapped. Instantly he was craning his head forward, putting his face even closer to Castiel’s now out of spite as he growled in return. “I already said, don’t fucking assume anything about me.” What right did Castiel have to say these things about him? Just because Dad restored him _twice_ and even gave him a shiny promotion for helping out the bloody Winchesters? Good Cas, dependable Cas, Castiel who fought and Fell for humanity and ended up being favored by the big guy; and in the meantime there was him, Gabriel the archangel who had fled from home because he was afraid to stand up to his family, and hid amongst the pagans and only ended up dead the moment he finally made himself step in to help them after so many years of hiding. 

What did Castiel do to deserve everything? What did he do that merited him being resurrected by their Father’s hand not once, but twice? It wasn’t fair at all, that’s what it was, and the more Gabriel thought about it the more he loathed Castiel. He got all the glory and fame and powers for helping humanity, while Gabriel himself had nothing at all except this mockery of an existence. 

It wasn’t fair.

“Your Grace keeps calling out for me whenever I am around,” Castiel spoke serenely, the rage from before now all gone. He didn’t move, didn’t come closer or withdraw, staying where he was with their lips so close to one another’s. “I hear it speak of pain and betrayal and loneliness, of being separated for so long. You have suffered much, Gabriel.” His eyes flickered across Gabriel’s face, attempting to read the other’s expression as Castiel finished his words. “Let me comfort you.”

The words were tumbling out from Gabriel’s mouth even before he registered them. “I’m not a replacement, Castiel.” Who was Cas even trying to kid here? It was obvious just who it was that the angel had eyes for. Gabriel knew he was far too broken, far too fractured to ever be put back together by any means. There was no hope for him.

Castiel’s eyes flashed with a foreign emotion before the angel averted his eyes, his jaw tensing. “There is nothing between Dean and I,” he replied.

“Bullshit,” Gabriel snapped back, eyes narrowing. “You love him.”

“So what if I do?” Castiel retorted with equal anger, eyes now darting back to glare at the archangel. “It will never happen between us. Dean will never accept me. Too much has happened for us to be together.”

“Stop giving me your crap.” It was ridiculous and stupid and frustrating, and Gabriel had no fucking desire to be some replacement to his brother, who couldn’t deal with his own matters properly and had been interfering with his anyway. “You’re just scared what will happen if Dean doesn’t accept you.”

“Just as _you_ are scared of letting anybody get close to you,” Castiel shot back, and Gabriel flinched as the words hit home. Taking his chance, the angel pressed on, not easing even for a moment, so that the archangel had no choice but to listen to his words. “You didn’t want to be hurt again, so you shut yourself off from everybody. You never let anybody stand beside you, and you have never experienced comfort since you left Heaven.” 

Gabriel clenched his jaw, refusing to acknowledge the authenticity of Castiel's words, despite the truth that they did hold. “Shut up, Cas.” He didn't need this—not here, not now. 

Cas stayed silent for a long moment, eyeing Gabriel intently with his big blue eyes that gleamed strangely before his hands suddenly tightened around his clothes, holding him in place. Before Gabriel had a chance to do or say anything, Castiel lunged forward to close the last bit of distance between them, pressing their lips together.

Registering the moment that it happened was like a shock to Gabriel's system. The archangel's eyes widened, his breath caught in his throat as he restarted his struggles against Castiel. His current strength was nothing compared to the angel's, however, and ultimately proved useless as Castiel pressed down hard enough against his chest to elicit a gasp from Gabriel, and Castiel took the chance to slip his tongue into the archangel’s mouth, plundering it without preamble. Castiel kissed fiercely, putting himself into that kiss with a single-minded devotion to the action, that he applied to everything else, and Gabriel couldn't help but be swept up by the force of that emotion and the way that Castiel was kissing him. Never had he imagined that under that stoic mask of his the guy could kiss like _this._

By the time that Castiel had pulled back Gabriel was left dazed and bleary-eyed, staring at the angel blankly, as he attempted to pull himself back together. A small smile touched upon Castiel's face, looking accomplished for being able to distract Gabriel like this. “Gabriel,” he started, his voice rasping quietly; one of his hands released its grip on the archangel's clothes to cup the back of his neck, holding him in place. “Please, brother. Let me.”

Gabriel found himself swallowing down a lump at the back of his throat, his gaze fixed on Castiel. “We shouldn't be doing this, Cas.” This was wrong—really wrong. Hadn't Castiel just said it? They were supposed to be _brothers_ ; and not only that, he wasn't even the person who the angel had eyes for. Not that he really cared for either fact—Dean was an idiot for not even noticing the affection that Castiel had harbored for him, and brothers had always been, at best, a relative term for them.

But still.

“Castiel,” the archangel managed again, attempting to keep himself in check even as Cas’ lips hovered above his, close enough that they could breathe in each other's air. The heat was getting to him; sweat rolled down from his temples, dripping down his chin and soaking through the shirt he wore. Gabriel swallowed down another lump in his throat before speaking out once more. “Cas.” A plea, a warning, a question—it was hard to say what it really was.

The angel only shook his head in response, not saying anything else as he closed the distance between them once more, this time brushing their lips together. Unlike last time, this gesture was much gentler and far more intimate, and Gabriel found himself helpless to the action. He parted his lips when Castiel shifted, tilting his head at just the right angle so that their mouths could meet each other properly, tongues tangling against one another. It was almost like fighting a battle, except that it wasn’t with words or actions, but mouths and hands and instinct. Cas was relentless in his movements, every action almost calculated and planned to fine detail; Gabriel could only groan quietly, the sound rippling from the back of his throat as the archangel matched each move with his own, suddenly engaged in a duel of another sort.

A duel that they had both lost, it seemed, as both of them parted from each other, their lips swollen and spit-slicked. Gabriel belatedly realized that his hands had moved sometime during the kiss, since now they were grasping Castiel’s upper arms. The angel seemed to have noticed the change as well, eyes flickering to look at where the hands were gripping momentarily before looking back to him, and Gabriel could see the angel’s pupils already darkening, his cheeks flushed red. Despite everything, the archangel couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Not quite how you thought it’d be, huh?”

Castiel’s eyes instantly narrowed. “It is not the first time I have kissed somebody.”

“I know.” Well, he had seen it being filmed at least, back in the other world—but that had been fake, choreographed. It had really happened here, in this world, with Castiel, and somehow that thought sent a small rush of anger into his mind. To think that kissing a demon was the first thing in sexuality that Castiel would attempt; Gabriel didn’t know if he wanted to see the irony in that whole thing. He hoped that he wouldn’t have to see it.

The archangel shook his head, dislodging the thoughts from his head and looked back at Cas, wondering once more if this was indeed the right thing to do. He was all for decadence and sex, of course, but… well, Cas really was a whole different ball game. Angel coupling was something that hardly ever happened, if at all. There had always been missions and works and things to do under their dad’s name; there had hardly ever been much time for personal things, let alone relationships. And then there had been the Nephilims, which only made angel couplings all the more impossible. Then again, that had all been a long, long, time ago, and Heaven was no longer the way it used to be.

Loosening the hold he had on Gabriel’s shirt, Castiel stepped back to give him that trademark head tilt of his, frowning. “You are worried,” he stated, more of a fact than a question.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, idly straightening up said shirt as he replied. “You’re inviting me to have sex with you, Cas. I think that requires a fair amount of worrying.” His life was seriously getting too complicated for his tastes.

Castiel glanced away. “If you do not want it, I will respect your wishes.”

“Kind of late for that now, bro.” Really kind of late, especially considering that rather mind-blowing kiss earlier. Or well, mind-blowing enough since he hadn’t gotten any since… since a long time, pretty much. The Apocalypse had made things kind of complicated for him after it started, and then there was the whole ‘getting killed and sent to another world’ thing to boot. Naturally, that had made it none-too-easy for Gabriel to actually attend to his human needs. Normally this was something Gabriel would have easily solved by snapping a few ladies into existence, or even a harem to toy around with, but it wasn’t as if he could do any of that at the moment. Besides, Gabriel knew very well what he really wanted, even if he was loathe admitting it.

The angel looked back at him, eyes widening slightly. “Then…?” Father, why did he have to sound so damned hopeful? Nothing about this was good at all.

Gabriel managed a small grin. “Somebody’s gotta teach you the wonders of the human body, right? Let your big brother Gabe show you how much fun sex can be.” Not about comfort, not about the intimacy that this act would bring with it. This was about just enjoying the moment, and scoring one before Dean-o could ever get it and pull his ass out of his head.

That’s what Gabriel liked to tell himself, anyway. It sounded better in his mind.

Castiel took a moment before he nodded, and then leaned back in to kiss him once more. This time though, Gabriel quickly took charge of the kiss, leading Cas’ tongue with his own as he mapped the contours of the angel’s mouth, one hand moving to clutch at Castiel’s hair as the other fumbled around to tug out the ends of his shirt from the suit pants that Cas was wearing. He slipped his hand under the fabric to brush across flushed skin once he could do so, smiling against the angel’s lips when Castiel gasped and shivered with the simple touch.

“The pizza man’s a bad example, Cas,” Gabriel murmured into the other’s mouth, hitching the shirt up so that he could move his palm up across the planes of Castiel’s stomach and reach his chest. Castiel broke the kiss at that and reached with one of his hand to stop Gabriel, fingers grasped around the archangel’s wrist as he tugged the hand downwards, and the archangel didn’t need to guess what his intentions were. He pulled his hand away from Cas’ grip, snorting quietly at the frustrated sound that came from the angel, before silencing him by mouthing across his jaw, leaving a trail of saliva with his tongue. “Not so fast, bro. The fun’s just only started.”

Castiel gasped, hands suddenly clawing at the back of Gabriel’s shirt. “Gabriel,” he managed out, voice already breathless and lost, as if he was in something that was way over his head. Which was pretty much the truth, but Gabriel wasn’t going to dwell on that. 

Humming back in response, the archangel slowly shifted his path to suck and nibble on the column of Castiel’s neck, one arm now slithering around his waist to keep the angel in place, as the other picked at the buttons of his shirt, undoing each one with efficient precision. He moved down to Castiel’s chest once the shirt was undone, lightly shoving it off the angel’s shoulder (singular, since it was hard to do so for the other side just yet) along with his jacket and coat. He spent a while indulging himself with the exposed nipple, toying with it with teeth and tongue and lips while Castiel gasped and writhed, hands clutching tighter. 

Letting go for the moment, Gabriel licked his lips and straightened himself back up, smirking at the dazed look that Castiel had on his face now. “You really liked that, huh?” he remarked, fingers running up Castiel’s unclothed side.

The angel closed his eyes and shivered at the touch, breath escaping from him in a shuddering gasp. “Don’t stop,” he murmured, voice nearly a whisper. “Don’t stop.”

“Not until the end, bro,” the archangel returned easily, tightening his hold on Cas’ waist and moving in to kiss again, distracting the angel long enough to back him towards the bed, grunting when the back of Castiel’s legs hit the end and helped him to lie down properly. Once Castiel was settled Gabriel moved to crawl on top of him, eyes taking in the sight of how messed up the angel was now, already flushed and panting and hard, as seen from the outline pressing insistently on the front of his pants. Gabriel ran his hand up the uncovered part of Castiel’s torso, fingers playing with the nipple once more, as he used his other hand to properly shove off the rest of Cas’ clothes, tossing them to the floor without a second thought.

Now that Castiel was topless, Gabriel could concentrate on the lower half of the angel, fingers swiftly moving down to play at the hem of his pants. The archangel watched as Cas made another one of his helpless, frustrated sounds and bucked beneath him, already so desperate and craving for the touch that Gabriel was taunting him with. Letting out a mirthless chuckle, Gabriel made sure to settle himself better, so that Castiel couldn’t buck him right off the bed, hands pressing against the angel’s hips to keep him in place on his spot in bed. “No moving yet until I say you can,” he laughed out quietly, pointedly ignoring the death glare that he was getting in return.

“Gabriel,” Castiel hissed back prissily, clearly unappreciative of the amount of teasing that Gabriel was dealing to him. “I would appreciate it if you could fuck me now.”

It was kind of amusing to hear the angel swearing like that, Gabriel mused to himself, and the amusement bled into his features as he smiled and moved his hands to the fly of Castiel’s pants, out of the goodness of his heart. “You really need to be more patient, Cas,” the archangel muttered, undoing the fly before the angel could say anything else, and Gabriel quietly relished the groan that escaped from Castiel as dark pants gave way to equally dark boxers, the front straining from the raging hard-on that Castiel already had. Another amused sound escaped Gabriel’s lips as he shoved the pants down, making sure that they were properly gone (along with all of his footwear) and leaving Cas in nothing but his tented boxers. Settling on top of Castiel once again, the archangel reached to rub the pad of his thumb across the wet spot on said boxers, watching the dampness as it spread further while Cas groaned and bucked his hips mindlessly, hips already moving to seek out more friction.

“You’re really sensitive,” the archangel remarked before he bent down and mouthed at the spot for a moment, to hear Castiel cry out and jerk his hips roughly to his face; Gabriel laughed and pulled back, withdrawing so that the angel could have a chance to catch his breath—it would be a waste if this was over so quickly. Cas groaned when Gabriel got off him, and the archangel had to pacify him with a brief kiss. “No worries, bro. Just taking my clothes off so we can get this started properly.”

Castiel blinked once and nodded, and Gabriel smiled in return before getting off the bed entirely. As the angel composed himself Gabriel proceeded to strip off quickly, losing all of his clothes with efficiency as they joined with the ones scattered across the floor. The humans probably wouldn’t be too happy about this if they were here, but this wasn’t about them anyway; this was about Castiel tonight and nothing else.

Returning back to the bed Gabriel pulled Cas up this time, making the angel sit up as the archangel sat across and faced him, keeping his hands to himself at the moment. Castiel stared back at him, his face wholly flushed and his eyes already blown wide with need, fixed on the sight of Gabriel’s own interested cock. 

Gabriel, of course, only smirked. “Like what you see?”

The angel snapped his gaze back to Gabriel’s face, the flush darkening as—to his surprise—Castiel actually nodded, his own cock twitching through the tent of his boxers. Gabriel supposed it was time he stopped the teasing and got onto the main event. Reaching out with his hands, Gabriel slipped his arms over Castiel’s shoulders, his palms resting on the small of the angel’s back. He leaned closer, moving in as if he was about to kiss Castiel again, but shifted his head at the last moment to press kisses along the other’s jaw, slowly trailing down his neck. His hands moved, pressing against the base of Castiel’s shoulder blades as his fingers kneaded along the muscle. 

The result was instantaneous. In a moment Castiel was keening loudly, pressing his face into the junction between Gabriel’s neck and shoulder as the archangel felt the air itself shift. Smiling, Gabriel rubbed against the spot harder, sucking at the side of Cas’ neck as the angel groaned in pleasure and literally jerked himself with enough force that the bed itself shifted, dragged across the floor by Castiel’s violent reaction.

“G-Gabriel,” the angel choked out, his voice now thick and heavy with pleasure. “That was…”

“Where your wings are, yeah,” Gabriel finished for him, moving his head up to brush lips with the other. “Did that feel good?”

“I—” Castiel started, breaking off to shudder as Gabriel repeated the action again, a low whine escaping from the back of his throat. “Y-Yes. Don’t stop,” he breathed out and the air shifted again, and Gabriel knew that it was a sign showing he was close to pulling those wings into the visible plane. “Don’t stop.”

Gabriel hummed low in his throat once more, an affirmation as he shifted to straddle Castiel’s lap, hands moving so that he could reach at the spot better and massage it harder. The angel cried out this time, nearly melting against the archangel as the air surrounding them displaced with a _whoosh_ and Castiel’s wings emerged, bursting out from invisibility and shifting into reality upon the physical plane. If there was one things that the humans got right, it was that an angel’s wings _were_ white and fluffy—just not all of them. The ones that Castiel possessed just happened to be one of those pairs, while Gabriel’s own were much more different; as an archangel he had eight wings on this plane, massive ones whose size this room couldn’t hope to contain. Of course, Gabriel couldn’t bring them out since he was still bound to his body, but it didn’t matter. Again; this was about Castiel.

Now that his wings were out Gabriel could properly place his attentions onto them. He buried his hands into the wings, fingers slipping through impossibly-soft feathers as the archangel groomed down the errant feathers that refused to lie properly, nails scratching lightly across the sensitive surface of Castiel’s wings and inwards. The angel moaned and whimpered, so overwhelmed by the pleasure he was feeling (and Gabriel knew this because he had done this before enough times to know) that all he could do was to shudder and shake, too caught up by the sensation to do or think about anything else.

Moving his hands across the giant wings, Gabriel continued to hum as he worked out the kinks of Castiel’s wings, fingers lingering upon whatever sensitive spots he found and rubbed them hard enough so that the angel was reduced to a whimpering mess. The boxers were straining greatly against the massive erection that Cas had by now, the dampness of the material flashing under the lights. Gabriel reached down with one hand to finally ease the boxers off him, throwing it down to the ground. He then moved his hand to the space between Castiel’s legs, spry fingers curled around the base of Castiel’s dick and he stroked it, a single slick pull upwards that made the angel cry out and thrust his hips upwards, following the action of Gabriel’s hand.

“Gabriel,” he breathed out the name, sounding so wrecked and caught in pleasure that the archangel was caught off-guard for a moment and paused. Castiel made another whine and tried to move his hips, desperate for friction and heat. “Please, Gabriel. Please.”

Gabriel made no verbal response, answering with actions instead of words as he shifted to settle on Castiel better, his hand slipping around to grab both of their cocks together, pressing them against each other. The archangel shuddered, the sudden heat of pleasure almost too much to bear, and he struggled to keep his coordination as he started to stroke them both smoothly, his hand already slicked in precome.

Castiel keened once again, hips stuttering as he thrust against the heat and friction of Gabriel’s hand and cock, hands clutching uselessly on the bed sheets. Gabriel had one hand on Cas’ shoulder now, to steady himself, as his other hand worked them towards completion, quickening his pace as the low curl of pleasure inside him curled up more and more, winding up even tighter than a clockwork spring. There was only heat and sweat and pleasure registering in his mind, and Gabriel let out a choked cry from the back of his throat as they sped closer towards the edge. Castiel’s wings were trembling now, his entire form so caught in pleasure, like Gabriel himself was, and the angel’s breaths sped up, chest heaving even though Castiel didn’t need to breathe, and he was fucking himself against Gabriel’s hand and cock and that was too good, that was far too good to be normal even by his standards—

“Cas,” the archangel found himself moaning out as he neared the edge, so close and so near and all he needed was just a little bit more of _something_. “Castiel, I—”

Gabriel didn’t find a chance to say anything though as Castiel suddenly lunged forward and kissed him, so utterly uncoordinated and filthy and dirty, that it was all that the archangel needed and he cried out, loud and broken as he followed the angel over the edge, coming the moment he felt wet heat splattering across him. Castiel’s entire form flared for a moment, his true form momentarily slipping out from the body of Jimmy Novak as pleasure wrecked his senses like nothing, he was sure, that the angel had ever felt. Grace surrounded both of them, enveloping Gabriel with its gentle power as the exposure filled him up, reaching out with the Grace still inside him and pouring forth in one of the most intimate ways ever.

By the time Gabriel came to his senses, he was strung out on top of Castiel, flopped over the angel who had fallen back over the bed, wings now gone and his chest still heaving as Castiel attempted to put his mind back together. The archangel forced himself to move, rolling off him to lie on the spot next to him instead and after a moment, laughed quietly. “I’m pretty sure the guys know what we’re up to now.” All things considered, it was hard to _not_ notice the little light show that Cas had put out at the end.

“Perhaps,” Castiel replied, voice quiet. He turned his head to face Gabriel, studying the archangel for a moment before adding. “More of your Grace has been restored when we climaxed, I believe.”

Gabriel couldn’t help but snort at those words, finding quiet amusement in the fact that only Cas would be talking about this right after they had sex. “Not now, bro. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.” He didn’t want to ruin the moment, not right now—now he just wanted to sleep, tired out from all the action earlier.

Castiel nodded in return, one hand already moving. “Sleep well, brother.”

There was a snarky comment on Gabriel’s tongue about Cas using his mojo on him there and then, but Castiel’s fingers brushed across his forehead before he could say anything and his eyes instantly closed, mind already slipping off into the realm of unconsciousness.


	12. eleventh act

**XI: eleventh act—we are all of us haunted and haunting.**

Dean liked to consider himself as a pretty open-minded guy. Really, he did. While he certainly wasn’t going to go parading around and demand the legalization of gay rights anytime soon, at the same time he wasn’t one to judge a person’s sexuality. You simply loved whoever you loved, no matter if the other party’s a dude or a chick. If you really loved that other person, Dean didn’t exactly see how gender was going to be a problem. After all, what’s more important are the emotions, right?

—okay, so sure, he might be a bit of an old-fashioned romantic at heart. But hey, in a world like this, you gotta take what you can get. Even if he didn’t have it himself, it sure as heck didn’t mean that everybody else couldn’t. He and Sam didn’t stop the freaking _Apocalypse_ just to have the entire world slip into depression, or something equally stupid. If the other dude or chick works for you, then that’s good. As long as you’re happy, then that’s the most important thing. But still, there really are some things in the world that Dean could do without knowing. Things like angel sex, for instance.

Don’t get him wrong, he was glad that Cas finally got some—although the fact that it came from _Gabriel_ of all people was something that Dean couldn’t help but worry about a little. If they had been just two normal guys, he could have handled it; but two _angel_ dudes? Shouldn’t there even be something against this? Not that Gabriel was the pinnacle of rule-following as far as Dean was aware, but still. Him… and Cas… getting down and dirty on the sheets…

Yeah, there were definitely things in this world that Dean did not need to imagine. 

That still didn’t stop him from giving a dirty look to the archangel the next morning when he entered the kitchen, and in response the asshole only put on the smuggest look that Dean had ever seen on his face before speaking. “Gooood morning, Dean-o. I hope you slept well?”

“No thanks to _you_ ,” the hunter instantly snapped back, throwing a dirty look back at him, as Dean snagged two slices of bread from the counter and busied himself with making a sandwich. 

He didn’t even need to look back to know that Gabriel was all but smirking at him now—the smug tone in the archangel’s voice was more than enough for him to decode the other’s expression. “What, you didn’t like Cas living it up a little?” He could _feel_ the smile growing now, the bastard. Didn’t he have anything else better to do?

To Dean’s own credit, he did manage to keep his voice cool when he replied. “Not when I have to hear him getting it on with you.” Jesus, he had just been in the next room, too. Once he had the time, Dean really needed a bucket of brain bleach to properly scrub his mind clean after last night; there was really only so much blasphemy even he could handle. Angel on angel _gay_ sex was definitely not one of them. 

Once he had slapped his sandwich together, the hunter turned around, only to blanch at Gabriel’s coy expression, and Dean was glad that he hadn’t taken a bite from his food yet, because he would definitely have felt like puking it back out the moment the archangel started to _flutter his eyelashes_.

“Why, _Dean_ ,” the archangel started in the worst falsetto voice ever, and Dean felt like gagging now because _what the fuck, Gabriel_. “Could you possibly be… _jealous?_ ”

The hunter stared back blankly in response to that question—yeah, he was definitely glad that he hadn’t eaten his sandwich yet. “What the fuck?” Him, jealous? Seriously? Where the hell did Gabriel even get _that_ from? Why the heck would he even _be_ jealous?

Gabriel stared back in return for a few moments of his own, looking as if he hadn’t really expected that answer at all. He blinked once, and then twice before breaking his gaze and let out a low whistle. “Wow. I never knew that you could be _this_ dense, Dean-o.”

Dean instantly scowled, not at all appreciative of Gabriel’s random observation. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not my place to say,” the archangel returned easily, both of his hands raised in a mock gesture of surrender. “But hey, if you want details on how Cas is in bed, I’d be happy to give them—”

“Fuck _no,_ ” the words came out from Dean’s mouth even before he could register them, and the hunter instantly snapped his mouth back shut, before he could say anything else that he might regret later. Gabriel (the asshole that he is) only smiled back in a way that seemed far too telling for Dean’s taste, the archangel’s expression all but screaming ‘I know something that you don’t’ and _yeah_ , Dean really didn’t like that. He gave Gabriel one last glare before turning around to storm out of the kitchen with his sandwich. _Would_ have stormed out of the kitchen with his sandwich, if Cas hadn’t decided to randomly appear at the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

Dean jumped back the moment Cas made his appearance, his entire body tensing up for a second, before relaxing once his mind could properly register the angel’s presence. He heard Gabriel attempting to hold back his laughter from somewhere behind him, and quickly scowled once again as he threw a half-glare at Cas. “You really need to warn people before you do that.”

Castiel tilted his head in response, looking back at Dean with his too-blue eyes and vaguely puffy lips and hair that most certainly looked like it had been messed up under Gabriel’s fingers, most likely while they—and he _really_ needed to stop thinking about any possibilities of angel porn, this was getting far too fucking ridiculous. 

Thankfully, the angel soon broke the moment with his reply. “I will keep that in mind for next time.”

“Good,” the hunter grunted back in a way that was a bit too quick for his own taste, and he knew that Cas noticed it too, because the angel was already starting to look at him with that inquiring frown on his face. In a matter of seconds, the questions were going to start coming—questions that Dean _did not_ want to answer if he didn’t need to. Pointedly looking away from Castiel, Dean made a quick dart out of the kitchen with his sandwich and made a mental note to himself to get coffee _later_. As he brushed past Castiel and (almost) escaped to the living room, Gabriel’s singsong comment sprung up from behind him. 

“Denial isn’t just a river in Egypt, Dean-o~”

Dean _really_ wanted to punch the asshole now.

Fucking archangels.

After that incident Dean would have been happy to not see any angels at all for the rest of the day, but unfortunately he had to see them again right after breakfast when Loki made an appearance and promptly called everyone to the study (that is, once she had gone through Bobby’s tests and several rounds of holy water).

“Just because I’m the Trickster doesn’t mean that I’m a demon, you know,” the girl grumbled as she snapped herself dry, trying her best not to scowl.

Bobby only rolled his eyes in response, as he put his flasks back down. “You complain an awful lot for being the Trickster.”

Loki let out a snort. “I only complain when I get a flask of holy water in my face the moment I appear,” she mouthed back smartly, as one hand moved to idly push away the bangs that were covering her eyes. Green eyes blinked as she scanned around her, almost as if finally noticing the rest of the people who were all ready and waiting for her to get a move on. 

Dean cleared his throat and shifted, crossing his arms over his chest and directed a glare at the Trickster. “If you’re done, I think we’d appreciate it if you actually started on what you came here for.”

The girl only returned the glare with her own unimpressed look. “ _Somebody_ got out on the wrong side of bed today, I think,” she drawled, purposely drawing out her words.

“Bite me,” Dean snapped back, scowling.

“If you two are done bickering like five-year-olds,” Bobby cut in then, sending glares to both Dean and Loki, with little regard to the fact that the girl could easily snap any of them out of existence should she choose to. “We have plans to discuss.”

Loki still didn’t look too impressed with Dean, but she relented at Bobby’s words and turned her attention back to the rest. Sweeping her eyes across the room, she eventually paused to land her gaze at Gabriel, and blinked at him for a few seconds before turning her gaze at Castiel, raising an eyebrow.

Now it was the archangel’s turn to roll his eyes. “Can we discuss that later?”

“I’m not saying anything,” the Trickster quickly went, gesturing with her hands. “But hey, I’d be happy to hear about details—”

“Are you two idjits done talking about angel sex?” Bobby snapped out once again as he sent out a glare to the two Tricksters, looking very unappreciative of how quickly they had all strayed from their original topic. “We haven’t got all day, you ladies.”

“No need to start snapping at me, old man,” Loki countered, putting her hands up once again as the girl took a step backwards from Bobby, as well as the crowd. “I get it.”

The elder hunter made a disbelieving sound in response, and gestured to the rest of the room with a hand. “Then get on with it already.”

Loki rolled her eyes once more, but made the wise decision of not saying anything else as the girl stepped forward, closer to the little impromptu gathering that they were having now. Tucking her hands into the pockets of the dark jeans she was currently wearing, the Trickster gave everyone another glance before promptly dropping the bombshell on all of them. “The guys have found Eve’s location.”

Now that was certainly news. Dean’s eyes instantly widened, and his mouth was already starting to open before Dean could even register the words. “What—”

The girl quickly cut him off with a wave of her hand. “I’m getting there,” she went pointedly, sending yet another unimpressed glance in response to the hunter’s own glare, before looking back at the rest again. “She’s in no definite place at the moment, as far as we can tell. She’s just moving around and sometimes trying to cook up some new monster or other, like the worm that Bobby ran into back at Ohio.” Loki paused then to give the elder hunter a passing nod, before continuing on. “So far, she hasn’t done anything else after that. But it’s only a matter of time before she _does_ do something, so we’re going to strike first, before she can.”

Sam, of course, asked the inevitable question. “How are we going to do that?”

“Getting to that now,” the Trickster replied, smoothly moving on. “We don’t want to raise an alarm to Eve and waste our chances, so only a few of the pagans are tagging along with us. Fenrir, Jorman—”

“ _Jör_ mungandr,” Gabriel corrected helpfully.

Loki made a grimace. “I always get the name wrong. _Jör_ mungandr—Midgar, as I like to call him—Hel…” the girl trailed off after that, frowning even more as she stopped to mentally tick off the rest of the names with her fingers. Soon enough, she proceeded to roll her eyes yet another time and finished up her words in a surge of dark amusement. “Basically, every one of Gabriel’s kids is going to hop along for the ride here.”

Dean didn’t get it, of course, but as he looked at Sam and Bobby (who were looking at each other with raised eyebrows) the same didn’t apply to them. Gabriel, on the other hand, seemed to be busy staring at the Trickster with disbelief written across his face. “ _All_ of them?” he asked out loud.

“Fenrir, Midgar—Jörmungandr, sorry—Hel and Sleipnir,” the girl confirmed, ticking off the names once more on her fingers. “Not all of them if you want to count Darcy—”

“ _Nari,_ ” Gabriel corrected yet again, although he sounded much more stressed about it this time round.

“—but we all know how confusing that entire thing is anyway,” Loki finished with a sigh, pointedly ignoring Gabriel’s unamused look as she rubbed the back of her neck. “I really need to find out what the heck happened that night one day.”

The archangel snorted at that, rolling his eyes. “Of course _you_ would want to know.”

Bobby decided to cut in once more. “If you ladies are done talking…” he started slowly, with intent.

“Sorry, sorry,” Loki quickly returned, attempting to placate the elder hunter with another gesture of her hand. Bobby, of course, was not so easily pacified, but settled down all the same after giving the Trickster another warning look. 

“Stop beatin' around the bush and get to the point, kid,” he went, and really—only Bobby could call somebody like the Trickster 'kid' and get away with it. 

Loki obviously was aware of this as well, and let out a snort of her own to illustrate her point before continuing on. “So Gabriel's kids are going to help us out with this. We're going to be setting up a trap to hold her in and stop her from escaping, and once they've got her down just shoot her point blank with the phoenix ash and voila! One dead Mother of All.”

Dean was not impressed with this plan. “You make it sound so easy,” he remarked, knowing that it'd most likely be the other way round. Since when was anything in his life easy? (Besides pie, but sometimes even that could be debatable.)

The girl only shrugged in response. “You've got Gabe's kids helping you out,” she pointed out in return, one eyebrow arching up. “How hard can it be?”

“Give me one reason why I should listen to _you_ , human.”

Dean struggled to bite back a sigh as he looked back at the purple and crimson headed teenager scowling in front of him, wondering if all of Gabriel's _kids_ were going to be this troublesome to deal with. “Loki—the Trickster—asked you to help us, so if you want to help just listen and do what I say. Got it?”

Fenrir narrowed his eyes. “We agreed to help, but we did not agree to take your orders like children.”

Jesus fucking _Christ_. Dean seriously wanted to punch something right the fuck now. Were all the pagan gods this fucking obnoxious? As if Kali and the others hadn't been bad enough back during the Apocalypse, now he had to deal with even more of them. The fact that they were Gabriel's _kids_ only made things a hundred times worse. The archangel seriously had no sense of shame whatsoever. But for what it was worth, said shameless archangel in question was at least now attempting to salvage the situation the best that he could.

Gabriel raised his hands in a gesture of surrender, letting out the sigh that Dean was holding back himself before he spoke. “Dean knows best what to do here, Fen. Just... listen to him, alright? You don't need to follow him to the letter, but at least take his words as advice.”

Rather than listening to the archangel's words, the wolf-god now instantly rounded on his father, baring his teeth in a gesture of irritation as the teenager's dark eyes flashed. “You are no longer my father, _Gabriel_ ,” he snarled out, terse and very obviously ticked off. “You have no right to tell me anything at all, or instruct me on what to do.”

For a moment Dean could see something familiar-foreign flash across Gabriel's face when Fenrir said those words, but the archangel quickly schooled his expression and looked back at Fenrir with an expression so fake, that just about anybody could pick it apart, even Cas. “I may no longer be Loki,” he started quietly, but Dean could hear the edge of steel in his voice, a tone that Dean himself was well-acquainted with. “But I am still the one who sired you, Fenrir. You're still my kid.”

“You are not one of the pagans,” the wolf-god growled back, very clearly having not cared about anything that Gabriel had just said. “You have never been, and you will never be, _angel_.” Dean couldn't help but wonder for a moment if the daddy issues were hereditary; it sure seemed like that was the case to him, judging from how Fenrir was acting now. Did _everybody_ he knows have an issue with their fathers?

To his credit, Gabriel managed to keep the blank expression on his face as he carefully looked back at Fenrir. “I may have never been a real pagan god,” he started quietly, “but I have always treated you all like my family. You are still my son.”

Fenrir snarled again. “You are not my father.”

Dean decided that it was time for him to step in before things got worse. “Alright, you two can keep at the family discussion later. Now we've got Eve to take down.” He glanced behind him, looking over his shoulder to pick out where Sam and the rest were. It was easy enough to spot the giant form of his brother, who was currently busy throwing darts and impressing the ladies. Bobby was at one of the tables blending in and playing poker. Cas, on the other hand...

The hunter looked back to see Fenrir glaring at Gabriel and the archangel pointedly ignoring said glare. Dean made a mental note to himself to get a drink after all this was done, as he reached over and nudged Gabriel to get his attention. “I'm heading over to Cas. You just... don't do anything stupid, alright?”

The archangel's response was to roll his eyes and snort. “Don't take _me_ for a kid, Dean-o. Go and have fun with your boyfriend.”

“He's not—” Dean started, but stopped himself quickly before he could say something that he would quickly regret. Cas was most certainly not his _boyfriend_ or anything like that, but he wasn't going to spoil Gabriel's mood even more. He may hate the guy for what he did, but even Dean knew better than to pick on him after being talked down by his own _kid_ like that. Dean knew the experience well enough from his days of taking care of Sam. He'd let Gabriel have his way, at least this time. 

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he hissed out instead, the words earning himself another exasperated eye roll from the archangel before Gabriel waved him off. Dean took that as his cue to leave; he grabbed his drink and slipped out from his seat, making his way towards Cas while still keeping an eye out for any disturbances in the crowd. Fenrir and the others might have managed to track Eve to this spot (or at least determined that she was going to appear here), but there was no telling when or how she might strike. All they could do for now was to keep their eyes peeled and wait for something to happen.

Until then, though, Dean supposed he should check to see how Cas was doing. The last few days seemed to have been especially exhausting on him, although now that Cas finally _did_ get some, Dean did hope that it would have loosened the angel up a little. Judging from the stiff, awkward way that Cas was currently sitting however, the hunter had a feeling that it wasn’t the case at all.

Biting back a sigh, the hunter shuffled himself to the free seat beside Cas and promptly flopped himself onto it, speaking only after he had taken a swig of his drink. “Any sign of her yet, Cas?”

The angel turned his gaze towards Dean and shook his head. “Nothing so far, Dean,” he answered.

Dean let out a frustrated huff at the response, annoyed at the lack of action (or maybe the fact that he couldn't let off some much-needed steam). “We've been sitting around here for at least two hours already, man. She'd better show her freaking face soon.”

“The pagans are certain that she will come by here,” Cas added seriously, nodding as he said those words. “We will be ready when she does appear.”

Not quite the response he had been expecting (not that it had really been expected from Cas in the first place), but Dean could roll with that. “Damn right we will be.” Compared to the Apocalypse this wasn't as bad, plus this time they had help from the pagans as well—although that would have been much more useful back when they were going against _Lucifer_ , but Dean wasn't going to start complaining. That was already over and done with.

Speaking of things being over and done with—Dean looked over at Cas once again, grinning slightly as he nudged the angel. “So, how was last night?”

Castiel looked at Dean again and blinked, looking somewhat lost for the moment. “Last night?” he echoed back, already starting to do that ridiculous but somehow still endearing head tilt of his.

—wait, no, _not_ endearing. The hunter scowled and quickly banished those thoughts away from his head before they could grow any more. “Yeah, last night. The entire house practically heard you, man.” And also caused Sam to have the bitchiest bitchface he had ever seen on his brother ever. Not that Dean didn't understand where it came from, but seeing it on his brother like that was just hilarious. 

The angel had another moment to blink blankly at Dean before he put two and two together, and once he had done so there was an instant tinge of red on Castiel's cheeks (which he _did not_ find cute _at all_ ) and the angel ducked his head in a gesture of embarrassment. “I, ah... I apologize for that,” he mumbled out quietly. “I had no intention to...”

“Nah, Cas, it’s cool,” Dean returned with a smile that somehow felt forced in his psyche, reaching out to clap the angel comfortingly on the shoulder. “Not quite what I expected, but I guess doing it with Gabriel is better for you, all things considered.” After all, considering how the last sexual(-ish, because it had been _just a kiss_ ) thing that Dean knew he had done was with _Meg_...

Cas frowned at those words, somehow looking as if he wasn't buying it. “Why would performing sexual acts with Gabriel be better for me?”

Dean opened his mouth at that, only to pause for a good few seconds before he shut it right back and stared at the angel. “Why wouldn't it be?” he finally questioned. “I mean, you're an angel and he's an angel too. It just... makes sense, I guess.” Not to mention the fact that the archangel was probably the Kama fucking Sutra for angel porn, considering his long run as Loki and the fact that just about every angel he had seen looked like they never got some (minus Anna, but she wasn't even an angel when they met).

Seemingly not bothering to even give Dean an answer, Castiel instead glanced back down at the half-drunk mug of beer in his hand and stared at it for a good few moments. The hunter decided that maybe it was a good time for him to skedaddle before things got even more awkward. “Uh, I'll just...”

Before Dean could properly finish talking however, the angel cut in with a quiet but intent-sounding sigh of his name. “Dean.”

The hunter instantly fell silent.

Castiel looked up from his drink and stared at Dean in that unblinking, inhuman way of his. “We... angels aren't supposed to be fornicating at all, much less with each other.”

Jesus, who the hell even said 'fornicating' these days? Dean managed not to wince that much at the word at least, although he was also silently thankful for the fact that he hadn't been drinking his beer when Cas said that. He had no intention of choking when Eve could turn up at any moment. 

“I, uh... sort of guessed that,” he eventually managed to say after a moment, wincing this time round because _yeah_ , way to state the obvious there.

Cas closed his eyes at that. “Gabriel...” he started quietly, and Dean watched the grip that Cas had on his mug slowly tighten. “I have not told you this, but Gabriel—he had been my commander before he left.”

Now _that_ had Dean doing a double take, surprised as he was to know about this. Of all the things to hear from Cas... “Seriously?” he questioned, not quite believing it. Sure, Gabriel was an archangel and all, but... “Wasn't Anna your boss?”

“She took over after Gabriel left Heaven,” the angel clarified, opening his eyes, and there was flash of pain in his eyes that was accompanied by a tone in his voice that Dean couldn't help but feel sorry for. “Gabriel was the original commander for the garrison I used to be in. He was...” Castiel trailed off, and the grip around his mug tightened even further, before he finished his words. “He was everything an archangel should be.”

Dean thought about the other archangels he had met, and found himself quite unable to conjure up a mental image of Gabriel being anything like Michael or Raphael. Lucifer was, of course, out of the question entirely. Eventually, all that the hunter could respond to that was a vague 'uh' that did nothing else but to make Cas sigh out his frustration.

“He’s not…” Castiel started again, voice quieter now. “He’s not like Raphael or Michael. He always encouraged us to do what we felt right when the situation called for it. I…” he paused then, letting out another sigh before admitting. “I didn’t really understand what he meant back then.” He paused again. “I don’t think a lot of us did.”

“I would be surprised if it had been any other way,” the hunter muttered in an undertone, recalling the various other angels he had met. Anna, Uriel, Zachariah… 

…okay, so maybe he wasn’t really able to judge angels in general, considering his less than stellar track record with them. But it still had to count for _something_ , one way or another.

Seemingly having not heard the man beside him, Castiel went on to elaborate for Dean. “I think Gabriel... he's never really put as much faith in God as the rest of us do. For him, it had been his brothers and us. He loved us as much as he could—more than any of us would have ever done then.” The hunter watched as the corner of Cas' lips quirked up into a small smile, the look on his face almost reminiscent. “I have always admired that about him.”

Huh. Who knew that Cas actually knew so much about the archangel? On one hand, Dean was faintly impressed that the angel had such thoughts on him. On the other hand... to hear so much about somebody else from Cas' mouth—Dean wasn't so sure what to feel about that. It wasn't as if he wanted to feel _special_ or anything, but to hear Cas know somebody else so well, when the angel also knew so much about him already... the feeling just didn't sit right in his gut.

Still, this wasn't about him. Dean shook his head, quietly stashing away said feeling, right to the back of his mind, and struggled for a moment to find the correct words to respond with. “...I'm happy for you Cas. Really.” If Cas was happy about this, then more power to him, right? That should be how things go.

Castiel looked at him there and then, staring at him in his usual, unblinking manner that Dean could only find familiar (and perhaps in some ways, comforting), holding Cas' gaze in his own. As he looked at the angel the hunter saw something seemingly flashing across Cas' eyes, a foreign emotion that Dean couldn't instantly place. Just as soon as he saw that though, Cas broke his stare, turning his head away from the hunter and looking elsewhere.

“Dean,” he went after a pause, his voice quiet and low.

The moment seemed to hang in that instant, weighing heavy and thick in his mind. Dean gulped, pushing down the hard lump at the back of his throat as he blinked once and replied with equal quietness. “...yeah?”

Somehow still not daring to meet back his gaze, Castiel swallowed as well before he spoke up again. “Actually, I—”

A scream suddenly broke out from within the crowd.

Dean instantly whipped his head around towards the source of the noise, senses already starting to whir as he moved to stand up from his seat. In that same instant Sam burst out from the side, distress written on his face as he caught sight of Dean and quickly moved to his brother's side.

“It's Eve,” Sam breathed out.

The crowd was in chaos as the Winchesters plus Castiel hurried over to where the action was taking place. Pushing through the flocks of distressed, frightened people, Sam took the initiative to help out as much as he could to get the civilians out of the place as the battle took place. Leaving his brother to handle to crowd, Dean went on ahead with Cas to the stage at the front of the establishment. 

The sight he got when he reached there was not a hopeful one.

On the stage stood Eve, looking exactly the same as on the video that Sam had run through back at Bobby's. Two people—one male, one female—flanked her, and even with their normal, human-like appearance, Dean was willing to bet that human was the last thing they were right now. There were other people on the ground as well—dead ones with their bodies split open and their guts strewn all over the place, along with the non-human ones that lumbered around with twisted expressions and blood dripping from their mouths and fingers. Didn't take a genius to figure out what exactly had happened here. 

Dean ignored the presence of the Mother of All for the moment, instead using the chaotic mess of the crowd to hurry over to the front of the bar, where Gabriel had crumpled down to the ground. He crouched down when he got there, reaching out for the archangel and shaking him by his shoulder and hissed out. “Gabriel! Hey, Gabriel!”

The archangel groaned as he stirred at the name, his head lolling as Gabriel struggled to regain consciousness.

“Let me,” Cas went, already reaching out with two fingers and pressed the tips of them to the other's temple. Gabriel snapped right back to awareness in the next instant, eyes flying wide open and he gasped, chest heaving as the archangel involuntarily sucked in a lungful of air. Dean quickly moved to steady him, once Gabriel had been brought back to consciousness, holding the archangel by his shoulders as Gabriel slowly focused back on the world around him, and raised his head to instantly focus on Castiel.

“Cas,” he managed weakly, and Dean had to try not to think too much about the fact that it was the angel who Gabriel had addressed first. “Eve, she—”

“I know,” the angel quickly replied, giving the other a quick once-over, before he straightened himself back up and turned towards Dean. “Watch over Gabriel, Dean. I will deal with Eve.”

Dean opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything Cas had—Cas was looking as if he had constipation. 

Gabriel spoke up before either of them had a chance to start asking. “Eve’s presence locks down on your powers, Cas. You can’t use your wings here.” 

Hearing those words only caused Dean to swear in his head. Now that was going to complicate things. “So, what? Both of you are nerf’d now?”

“For Cas, yeah,” Gabriel replied for the angel, easing Dean’s hold on him as he straightened himself back up. “Me, not so much still, but I got ambushed. She must have sensed me… or not-sensed me. You get the picture.” The archangel paused for a moment then, a sudden wince crossed his face as he swiped fingers against his back and watched as they came back bloody. If that wasn’t a bad sign, then Dean didn’t know what was. 

Not wanting to waste another moment, he turned the archangel around to check the extent of whatever damage that Gabriel had received. Fortunately, there wasn’t anything more than a few bad-looking scratches that would heal in time—still, it would be a good idea to wrap up the damage, at least to prevent any infections from happening. Glancing around, the hunter only took a moment to spot a towel hanging off from the edge of the bar and made a quick move to swipe it off, pressing the cloth against the wounds. The archangel hissed out loud when Dean pressed against his injury, and from the corner of his eyes he could see Castiel frowning at the reaction and generally looking worried at Gabriel’s current state. 

The archangel must have noticed it as well, because he was already starting to move again, attempting to get back up on his feet as he tried to shoo Cas away with a wave of his hand. “I’m alright, bro. Go help out Gigantor and the rest of the family. Eve’s brought some serious muscle-heads with her.”

“Yeah, Cas,” Dean added, casting a glance at the ongoing battle that was happening up front; it was easy enough to see, now that the crowd was gone, and the fallen table in front of them did well enough to hide them from immediate sight. “I’ll take care of Gabriel here. Go and help Sammy.”

Castiel hardly looked convinced by either of their words, but thankfully he didn’t push the issue and only responded with a nod, before he turned and went over to join the battle.

Dean looked over to Gabriel once the angel had gone out of earshot. “Are you really alright?” he asked again.

Gabriel rolled his eyes in response. “I’m not as fragile as you make me out to be, Dean-o,” he sighed, somehow sounding slightly irritated. “Just leave me here and go help Cas; I’ll rejoin the fight as soon as I can.”

The words instantly caused Dean to frown, not at all assured by the archangel’s words. As much as he did still have a dislike for Gabriel, he was still Cas’ brother, and he wasn’t going to just dump the other like that and leave him at the mercy of whatever might jump here. It wasn’t as if the bar they were in now was particularly big; anything could get here easily, and if Gabriel was alone and still recovering…

As if having sensed his thoughts, Gabriel only snorted loudly before proceeding to wave him off as well. “Just go, Deano. I am still an archangel, y’know. I can take care of myself.”

There were many things that Dean could say in response to that—most of them not all that kind—but the hunter managed to keep his mouth shut, before he could come out with any witty reply, and only acknowledge the archangel with a small nod. He moved, getting up on his feet as one hand reached to grab the pistol tucked at the back of his jeans and pull it out, fingers deftly unlocking the weapon as he straightened himself properly and darted in to enter the fray.

He could tell his thoughts to Gabriel later, once Eve was dealt with, the hunter decided. Hopefully, there would be enough time then to give the archangel a proper talk on how to _not_ make your brother worry to hell and back about you.

The battle was already well underway when Dean joined in, with both sides fiercely raging against each other. The hunter tightened the hold he had on his gun, sidestepping the corpses in his way as Dean hurried over to where his brother was currently tangling with a skinwalker.

“Sammy!” he shouted, alerting his brother, as well as the monster the younger Wincherster was fighting, to his presence. Sam instantly got the message, pushing back as he used his size against the skinwalker and managed to shove the transformed dog away from him. Dean instantly moved, lifting up his gun and firing it. The bullet hit straight and true, striking the skinwalker in its shoulder which elicited a loud yelp of surprise from the canine. Taking his cue, Sam made use of the skinwalker's distraction to lunge forward, silver knife flashing under the lights as he plunged the blade right through its heart.

A loud whine escaped from the canine as the blade went through, but the sound quickly faded as its life was snuffed out, and Sam grimaced as he pulled the knife out from the now-human body and wiped off the blood against the back of his jeans. Dean properly made his way to the other, glancing in mild surprise at the blade that his brother was holding. “Where did you get that?”

“Jörmungandr,” Sam went in reply, looking back at his brother with a concerned-looking frown. “Cas informed me on what happened. Gabriel okay?”

“Good enough, all things considered,” Dean answered, firing out another shot to drive back yet another skinwalker. “What do we have here?”

Sam's response was to let out a loud snort. “Well, for a start there're vampires, rugarus, shapeshifters, skinwalkers and djinns,” he started, pausing for a moment to cast a glance towards Eve. “I think she's also made something new as well, but I can't confirm that.”

As if things weren't bad enough as it was. Dean muttered a curse under his breath, shifting the hold on his gun. “So we're up against a smorgasbord of things that go bump in the night,” he hissed out, eying the large group of creatures still out for their blood. “Just fucking peachy.”

The monsters crowded closer around them, circling around as the Winchesters found themselves outmatched, a hundred to just the two of them. Five years ago, perhaps, Dean would have considered _this_ as the worst case scenario—but after going through Heaven, Hell and the near-Apocalypse, somehow being surrounded by monsters didn’t seem as frightening as it should be. Still, he wasn’t going to assume that getting out of this would be easy; Cas and the pagans were busy with whatever else Eve had set on them, and Dean was pretty sure Gabriel wasn’t going to appear in the nick of time to save their asses, like what he did with Lucifer.

He took one step back, his back pressing against Sam’s as he swept his gaze across the line of monsters waiting for them. “Any smart ideas, Sammy?” he asked.

“I do have an idea,” Sam went in response, but it was hard to ignore the grim tone that edged into his voice. “It’s not really that smart though.”

Dean turned his head around and glanced at his brother. “What, are we going to just charge in and kamikaze our way over or something?”

Sam winced at his brother’s choice of words, but answered the question nevertheless. “Something like that. You over me with the gun, and I’ll charge through and get us to Cas.”

“With nothing but a _knife_?” Dean couldn’t help but question, eyes darting to the blade that Sam had in his hand.

The younger Winchester made a sound of confirmation. “Jörmungandr told me that this knife could kill any kind of monster. It hasn’t let me down yet.”

“What, and you want to test out that theory now?” Dean snapped back, irritation rolling in his voice. “No way, Sam.” He wasn’t going to let his brother play the sacrificing moron _again_. Lucifer had been fucking enough already.

“If you have any better ideas,” Sam stated with a hiss, “I’d be happy to hear it, Dean.”

And the fact was that Dean _didn’t_ have an idea in this situation, which of course hardly did anything to help out in their predicament. He cursed yet again, more than pissed over just how screwed they were right now. He clenched his jaw, tensing as he readied his gun and finally hissed back at his brother, “Alright, _fine_.” He gave his surroundings a quick look as he said that, easily spotting Cas who was busy holding his ground closer to the front. The distance wasn’t too far, but the only problem was the wall of monsters separating them from the angel.

Sam let out a sound of acknowledgement once Dean gave his consent, inching around to the general direction of where Castiel was, and tightened his grip around the handle of the knife in his hand. “Okay,” he breathed out, voice just loud enough for Dean to hear. “On three.”

Dean nodded in response, falling silent soon after as he continued to look at the monsters. They were staying as still as he was, waiting for the moment to catch either of them off guard and then move in to strike. He could give them credit for that, at least, but it hardly made him feel any better. Pushing down the hard lump at the back of his throat, Dean forced himself to stay perfectly still, waiting for the right moment to start moving—and said moment should be coming right about now…

“Three!” he heard his brother shouting without warning, bolting in the opposite direction of where Cas was. The monsters instantly took the bait, all of them lunging forward towards Sam. Dean took his cue at once, raising his gun and pulling the trigger in quick succession as he emptied his magazine into as many of these assholes as he could manage, attempting to cut down their numbers in the middle of the confusion. 

The plan worked, to an extent—a couple of them did get hit and found themselves flinching at the shot, and the distraction proved to be long enough for Sam to get close and deal the killing blow through their hearts or by decapitating them. The blade that Sam had seemed to be working well-enough; the blade sliced cleanly, and it looked like it didn’t take much effort on Sam’s part either; whenever he attacked, the knife went through anything easily, as if it was simply cutting through butter.

Dean quickly darted forward once the magazine in his gun ran empty, reloading as he moved and proceeded to resume shooting, giving his brother the cover fire he needed. The gunshots rang out loud and clear within the noise of the battle, the sound ringing in his ears as he trailed after Sam, following the path of bodies that the younger Winchester had left in his wake. To his left and right even more monsters were starting to converge around them, but Sam was using his big size and near-inhuman stamina to his advantage and managed to shake off the worst of them without even so much as a pause. So far, so good. If they could manage to keep this up for a bit longer, then it wouldn’t be a problem at all to get to Cas.

 _Just a bit more,_ he thought to himself, gritting his teeth as he finished up his second round of bullets and tried to reload again. Unfortunately, trying to reload when there are monsters surrounding you was never the best thing to do, and as Dean started to replace his magazine, a rugaru jumped out at him without warning, swiping with its paw with enough force that Dean fumbled and dropped his gun. It skidded across the floor, moving way too far out from his reach.

Sam (who had just managed to break out from the wall of monsters) heard the sound and quickly turned right around, eyes wide in fear and worry as he shouted out towards his brother. “Dean!”

“Just go, Sammy!” Dean roared back, doing his best to sidestep the attacks coming at him, as he tried to find a way out of this mess. He jumped and twisted around as a pair of skinwalkers dived at him, pulling out the silver penknife from his boot and slashing it at the next thing that attempted to lunge at him. Managing to land back safely on his feet, Dean looked around, eyes darting as he tried to find a way. Surely there had to be a way to get out of this properly. 

The monsters were already regrouping and recovering, gearing up for another strike as Dean continued to try and battle his way out, looking for an exit when a big group of monsters moved in to attack and there was no way he could avoid all of them in one piece—

There was no warning, no call of his name when the angel blade suddenly appeared from one of the beast’s chest, and Dean stumbled back in surprise as the vampire could only gasp before suddenly crumbling into ash and dust in-between one blink and the next. The other beasts were all taken aback by the sudden interruption, caught unaware by the attack and had little time to recover before a familiar figure came up. He reached with one hand and pressed his palm against the back of a rugaru’s head, blue eyes impassively watching the flare of light that burst out from the beast’s eyes before it crumpled into a lifeless heap before Dean’s feet.

Dean took a moment to stare at the corpse before raising his gaze to look at Castiel who was busy pulling his blade out from the other corpse he had slain earlier. The angel raised his head when Dean stepped forward; straightening himself back up as Cas moved closer as well and promptly passed the bloodied angel sword to the hunter. “Here, have this.”

A moment passed as Dean stared at the blade in a mix of disbelief and uncertainty, not quite sure if he really should take it. He looked up at Cas, seeing the angel frown in irritation before practically pushing the blade into Dean’s own hand. “You are out of bullets. The sword can kill more than just demons and angels,” he said in explanation, making sure that the hunter was holding his sword properly before turning around. “Be sure to return it to me later,” he added on almost as an afterthought before he was going off again.

Dean stayed silent for a few moments after that, watching Castiel charging back to the battlefield before he gulped and nodded, shifting his grip on the blade so that it rested comfortably in his hand as he replied softly, loud enough that it was almost like a whispered promise, with only himself to bear witness to the words. “Don’t worry, Cas. I will.”

With Castiel’s blade in hand, going through the wave of monsters coming at him wasn’t as hard as it should have been. The angel blade struck straight and true with every swing and strike that Dean made, the monsters dropping like flies. In almost no time at all, the hunter broke through the last of the monsters and managed to get to where Eve stood waiting for them, the two creatures from still at her sides.

Sam moved over to Dean once the elder Winchester stumbled through, looking over his brother to ensure that he was alright and blinking in surprise at the weapon that was now in Dean’s hand. “Did Cas give you that?”

Dean took a moment to glance down at the sword, staring at it for a few moments before he turned his gaze onto Eve. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice quiet. “But I don’t think its going to work on Eve.”

The younger Winchester made a grimace at the response. “Jörmungandr’s blade didn’t work either,” he went, and Dean followed Sam’s unconscious flicker to stare at the half-melted blade lying at Eve’s feet. “I guess all we can use are the phoenix ashes.”

“Just peachy,” Dean mumbled under his breath in return as Eve finally moved her head and swept her gaze across them all as a small smile slowly crept across her face. Both Winchesters instantly tensed when they saw said smile, already expecting the worst from the expression that Eve now had. Castiel shuffled up from behind them as did Fenrir, Jörmungandr and Hel, all of them ready to counter anything that the Mother of All would throw out for round two. 

Everybody got ready to retaliate when Eve started to take a step forward, but then both Sam and Dean paused when Eve took said step and they suddenly found themselves staring at the spitting image of their mother. Mary Winchester, who had died for them and _because_ of them and forever doomed to a fate that she could never escape from. 

The memory of that instantly made Dean’s temper flare, teeth gritting together as the elder Winchester cast the angriest look he could muster and threw it right at Eve’s face. “That’s it, bitch,” he snarled, green eyes blazing in anger. “You’re going _down_.”

Eve’s smile only grew wider in response. “I thought it would be the best fitting image to talk the two of you with. I am a mother, after all.” Her eyes flashed as she gazed across the six of them standing in the now thoroughly bloodied room. “All I wish to do is to protect my children.”

“You’ve got a funny way of showing it then, missy,” Dean retorted back to her, voice coming out loud and sharp. 

“I only do what I must,” Eve returned, eyes narrowing. “Especially when the King of Hell is still out there killing my children—my firstborns.” 

Dean could feel Sam’s surprise as well as his own. The King of Hell? But wasn’t that—

“Crowley?” Sam finished the question for him, frowning. “He’s dead. Cas killed him.”

The answer had Eve abruptly shifting her gaze towards the angel, eyes narrowing as she studied the angel glowering before her in great detail. Castiel stared back, unflinching, and after a few moments the smile on Eve’s face took a wicked curl at the corners of her lips, the expression on her face betraying the Mother of All’s amusement.

“Oh, Castiel,” she started, mirth tinged on every syllable. “You think that you’re going to be able to accomplish anything the way you are now? You foolish, foolish child.”

The Winchesters turned their heads towards Cas at that, and Dean could see the tenseness of the angel’s jaw, the way Castiel was clenching it together as he glared right back at Eve and growled his answer. “You have no right to tell me anything, Eve,” he snarled out, eyes flashing in rage.

The expression on Eve’s face only grew all the more wicked at the response she got, her lips twisting around into a mere parody of the smile she had just moments ago. “Is that so, Castiel?” she questioned, the triumphant tone in her voice unmistakable. “I’m a mother just the same way as your father is, boy. I see everything that my children do.” Her eyes gleamed there and then, a spark of something flashed briefly in them as Eve echoed herself. “Everything.”

Cas’ expression hardened even further at Eve’s words, but didn’t say anything else. Dean, on the other hand, only found himself questioning the meaning behind her words, and he turned towards the angel, asking, “Cas, just what is she talking about—” 

Before Dean could finish the question though, he was suddenly interrupted with an all-too familiar flickering of the lights above them. He stopped speaking as the entire place started to shake, the very earth trembling as the winds howled from outside. Fenrir narrowed his eyes and sniffed the air, eyes widening as the wolf-god identified the scent and instantly whirled around, teeth barred into a low snarl. 

“Demons,” he growled out lowly, and everybody in the room tensed at the word. “They’re coming.”

There was no time to prepare for them. As soon as Fenrir said those words the doors and windows all burst open, wood and glass shattering across the room as countless demons flooded the entire place in their thick, smoky forms. The group instantly scattered—Castiel ran off on his own as the pagans split out, while Dean and Sam backed away quickly in an attempt to distance themselves from the smoke as much as they could. The demons began to possess the numerous corpses littered across the floor and the stench of sulfur hung thickly in the air as the possessed corpses began to push themselves back to their feet, the smell pungent and nearly overwhelming.

Both Winchesters raised their respective weapons (Sam took out his spare gun) as the demons got up, ready to fight their way out if it went that way. With the smoke cleared they could see the pagans assuming their own stances as well. Cas, on the other hand, was still missing, and Gabriel was nowhere to be seen. Dean scowled, attempting to push down his worries and not doing a very good job of it. Were the two angels alright? Now in a three way battle like this, anything could happen—and it was clear that they were the underdogs in this confrontation. They needed to get out right this moment, before things could get worse.

Dean laid his finger on the trigger, ready to shoot the first bullet when an all-too familiar voice interrupted him. “There’s no need for such violence now, boys. I’m just here for a little chat.”

Five heads snapped back around to the front, and in spite of having been told about it earlier, both Dean and Sam failed to hide their surprise as their eyes widened to take in the familiar figure of Crowley, whole and alive and currently holding a pinned down Eve by her hair, the two creatures at her side already long dead and gone.

“Hello again, boys,” the demon went with a smirk. “It’s been a while since we last met.”

It only took Dean for a moment to reply with an appropriate answer. “You let her go right now, asshole,” he snarled, tightening his grip on Cas’ blade.

Crowley only scoffed in response, although he hardly sounded surprised at the response he had gotten. “And let you kill her? Please, I don’t like my valuables being shot.” He paused for a moment, glancing at Eve before adding on with a wry smile. “Especially not this one.”

Sam frowned at the choice of words. “Valuables?” he echoed, questioning. “What do you need Eve for?”

“Same thing I’ve always needed her for,” the demon replied simply, tilting his head. “I’m sure even morons like you should be able to figure out what I’m talking about.”

Rather than either of the Winchesters, it was Fenrir who answered the question, the wolf-god’s eyes flashing as he spoke in a low growl. “Purgatory,” he snarled out. “You plan to open it using Eve.”

“Nice to see somebody with an actual lick of sense,” Crowley went in response, amusement dripping from his voice as glanced over at Fenrir. “I suppose Gabriel’s brains had to go _somewhere_. Didn’t expect it to go to a mutt like you, however.”

Both Winchesters blinked at the mention of the archangel’s name, surprised to hear it coming from the demon’s lips; Fenrir on the other hand snarled at the thinly-veiled insult, teeth barring out as the wolf-god snapped back in return. “You watch where your mouth, demon, or I’ll tear it out from your face.”

Crowley rolled his eyes at the threat. “It’s always violence with you pagans,” he muttered, just loud enough for them to hear but proceeded to go on as if he hadn’t said anything at all. “There’s no need for threats here, boys. I’m merely here to discuss a little transaction.”

Dean had an immediate response to that. “We’re not going to work for you again, you sick son of a bitch,” he growled out, raising the angel blade in his hand. “We’re not going to help you open Purgatory.”

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that,” Crowley waved it off, smiling. “I just hope for a little… cooperation.”

“ _No,_ ” Dean answered instantly, eyes narrowing. “Now you either let her go, or I’m going to put this sword right through your non-existent heart.”

The demon merely raised an eyebrow, hardly looking ruffled by the threat. “Are you now?” he asked, bringing up his free hand and there was a sudden sound of growling echoing around the entire place. The unmistakable sound of scraping claws and gashing fangs rang in Dean’s ears, and he instantly tensed up, jaw clenching as he glared back at Crowley, who only smirked and spoke up again. “I believe I have your little merry band of thieves surrounded.”

“I believe you need to _stand down now_ , Crowley,” a low and distinctly recognizable voice cut in from there. All heads now whipped around to face Castiel, who was glaring straight at the demon with a familiar-looking gun in his hand with Gabriel at his side, the archangel looking pretty worn out but trying not to show it. 

Crowley took a moment to look at the gun before raising both eyebrows this time, and gave Cas a rather unimpressed look. “Really, Cas?” he went, “The Colt?”

Castiel made no verbal response to the comment, but he tightened the grip on the gun and continued to glare right at Crowley. Beside him, Gabriel attempted to straighten himself up properly, but the exhaustion was written clearly on his face. 

Crowley, of course, took note of it instantly and ‘tsk’ed aloud. “I assume you had Gabriel’s help in getting the Colt and returning here,” he remarked idly, shaking his head after that. “Really, Cas. I thought that I had taught you better than that while we were still all chummy and helping out each other.”

The words sent a wave of dread rolling inside Dean’s gut, washing over him in a way that he could not be comfortable with at all as the hunter turned towards the angel, eyes widening ever so slightly. “Cas?” he asked, his voice nearly in a whisper, unable to believe the implications of Crowley’s words. Crowley… and _Cas_?

The angel didn’t meet Dean’s gaze and only kept to staring at Crowley, but he did speak up, answering the demon’s words with a growl. “Things have changed, Crowley. If you lay even one finger on the Winchesters, I _will_ destroy you.”

“I’d like to see you try, darling,” the demon returned with a smirk. “But for now, I do have matters to attend to.” He tightened his hold on Eve to prove his point, and the Mother of All let out a tortured sound. “I’m quite sure that we’ll see each other again soon, though,” he added, glancing across the entire room and meeting each of their gazes and smirked a little more. “Until then, gentlemen.”

Castiel pulled the trigger and attempted to shoot Crowley with the Colt as soon as he said that, but the bullet hit nothing but solid brick as the King of Hell vanished along with Eve, as well the rest of the demons who had been with him.

The silence that followed after their departure told perhaps one too many things for Dean—and he didn’t like it at all.


	13. twelfth act

**XII: twelfth act—goodbye halcyon days.**

Gabriel had really hoped that he wouldn’t be here when this happened, but there was no real way for him to get out of it—at least not in his current state. He had expended way too much energy in transporting both him and Castiel around to get the Colt, and then return to where Eve was. It had been hard enough to use his powers in his current state, but to do it while going through Eve’s barriers… pretty much all the Grace he had was gone again, and recharging was going to be a straight bitch to do. 

Still, that he could handle. What he _couldn’t_ handle was seeing things quickly breaking down between Castiel and Dean, as soon as the angel had placed him onto the small cot in Bobby’s study.

“Really, Cas?” Dean demanded. “Really? Of all people, _Crowley?_ ”

Castiel clenched his jaw, looking straight back at Dean with a glare of his own. “It does not matter now. I have ended my partnership with him.”

Dean let out a hiss of frustration. “That isn’t the point, Cas. Why did you even think that working with Crowley—why did you even work _with_ him?”

“…it seemed like the best option at the time,” the angel returned, much more quietly this time as he turned his gaze away from Dean and looked right at him instead. “I know better now.”

Gabriel stared back for a moment before he shifted to glance at Dean instead, and he watched as the hunter looked between them and quickly put two and two together. “You _knew_ , Gabriel?” he snapped out now. “You knew, and you didn’t tell us?”

The archangel only narrowed his eyes. “It’s up to Cas to tell you about this, Dean,” he replied. “I’ve got no right to interfere in this.”

“Like you didn’t interfere when the Apocalypse happened?” the man shouted back in return. “Or with Eve?”

“They are entirely different things—” he started to retort, but Dean cut him short before Gabriel could say anything more than that.

“You’re just being a fucking coward again, you asshole!” Dean almost roared out then, his eyes blazing in anger. “You’re afraid to stand up to him because you don’t want to lose him! Or were you too busy screwing with Cas to care about anything else?”

Despite knowing that something like that was going to be said, the archangel still couldn’t help but flinch at the words, struck hard by the weight of them. Castiel stepped in soon enough, a seriously displeased expression on his face as he glared at Dean and warned in a dangerously quiet voice. “Do not drag Gabriel into this, Dean. He is not related to this matter.”

Rather than heeding the unspoken warning, it flew right over Dean’s head instead and the hunter snapped right back at Castiel. “How the fuck is he not involved in this? He’s been backing you all this time!”

“Gabriel is the one who taught me otherwise,” the angel returned, soft and quiet but still sounding very, very dangerous. “He has never ‘backed’ me up. When he knew what I was up to, he confronted me himself and made me learn the error of my ways. He has been helping us and aiding us the best he can, despite his condition, and he wore himself out in getting the Colt from its place. Gabriel is doing all he can to stop Crowley, but yet you only see things on the surface and make biased assumptions.” Castiel set his jaw in a firm line as he challenged Dean’s glare with his own as he finished what he wanted to say. “I thought of you as a better man than that, Dean.”

Dean only glowered, giving Cas a brief glare before he turned around. “You’re the one who made the first move, Cas,” he spoke, and this time the anger sounded much more personal, much more hurt. “You started this.”

“And I have ended it, but apparently you are too blind to see that,” Castiel retorted with venom in his voice, and Gabriel decided to keep quiet as the angel bent down and picked him up again. “If this is what you think, then we shall not intrude here any longer.” 

Sam snapped his head up at those words, clearly surprised by what Cas had just said. Dean, on the other hand, stayed silent and unmoving, his back still facing towards both angels. Castiel seemed to have taken the lack of action as a response of its own; Gabriel could see something shifting across his face, before Castiel quickly covered it up with a mask of indifference.

“Goodbye, Dean,” he spoke, and before either of the Winchesters could speak Castiel opened his wings and flew both of them away from Sioux Falls.

“Man, that is one bad breakup scene there.”

Gabriel made a sigh of agreement as he leaned back on the couch, wondering when did crappy, overdramatic (as well as unnecessary _long_ —seriously, 787 episodes?) Asian dramas mange to encapsulate his life so well. “Seriously,” he muttered morosely, idly flicking a cola sweet into his mouth as he spoke. “They’re _both_ complete failures in properly talking about their feelings.”

Loki snorted from beside him, her gaze fixed on the television in front of them as the girl channel started to surfed across her home’s cable network once more, after having paused to watch said bad breakup scene earlier. She frowned as she went through some of the later channels and quickly ended up shutting off the television. “Why can’t the good stuff just air the same time that America does?” she grumbled as she tossed the remote onto the table, looking evidently displeased. “I hate this 24 hour wait bullshit that the company pulls here.”

“You could always move,” the archangel pointed out easily.

The Trickster rolled her eyes in response. “And get myself involved in pagan politics?” she went with a snort. “Not a chance, man. I like the easy life here.” To emphasize her point, the girl patted the armrest of her couch, as if to assure the furniture that she would still be around no matter what.

Gabriel rolled his eyes this time, letting out a sound of exasperation as he turned around to glance at the calendar hanging from the nearby windowsill. It had been a while (a bit over a week, to be precise) since Castiel had that big blowout with Dean and subsequently brought both him and Gabriel back to the Trickster’s place in Singapore. Loki had kindly allowed them to stay after the two angels had randomly turned up at her doorstep, and to her credit she didn’t poke or prod in the time Cas hung around and generally did nothing else but mope. In all his time being around, Gabriel didn’t know when he had seen an angel as depressed as Castiel was right there and then.

Still, considering the situation there really wasn’t anything much that he could do; Gabriel did his best though, mostly by sticking around and nudging the angel to eat or drink something every once in a while, at least to feel slightly better. Loki attempted to aid the archangel in that aspect as well, although as much as he did love his sweets he had to stop the girl from feeding Cas things like rock sugar and Hershey’s chocolate syrup that came straight from the bottle (“Hey, do you even know how much a bottle costs around here? It’s a rip-off, I tell you! I’m doing him a favor!”).

They did sleep together a few times, although it was Gabriel who had to do most of the work there. The archangel didn’t mind so much—he had his fair share of this during his somewhat decently long run as Loki—but it still hurt, seeing Cas looking so broken and lost as the angel trembled and shook like a leaf in his arms, making quiet, broken sounds into the skin of Gabriel’s shoulder. The only comfort he could really take from it was that usually Cas was so worn out after, that he fell asleep right after, although Gabriel did worry for a while over that. It was a fact that angels didn’t need to sleep, technically speaking, and while he had been an exception… it took Loki giving the angel a once over to assuage his fears, but once he knew that Cas was alright Gabriel could feel a little better.

This morning, though, Gabriel had woken up to find Cas gone and a note on the bedside table in the angel’s place, informing the archangel that he would be out for a while. The note did fill him with a certain amount of relief, if Gabriel had to admit it; the fact that Castiel was moving around again, being his serious self, at least showed that he was starting to get over it. Or he was just locking it deep, deep down inside his heart. Gabriel sincerely hoped that it wasn’t the latter.

So now here he was in the living room and having channel surfed with Loki; the Trickster now had her attention directed to the two different flyers in her hand which the girl seemed to be mulling over quite seriously. “I wonder if Pizza Hut has any deals on offer…”

The archangel let out a snort. “We should just poof over to the nearest mall,” he suggested. “There’s a whole bunch of them around here, right?”

“Not as much as the east,” Loki replied with another snort of her own, looking up from the flyers. “You should see Tampines; three malls in one spot, man. I don’t know what people were thinking when they did that. Anyway, I wouldn’t suggest poofing to the mall. Sunday crowds are a bitch to get around in.”

“You said the same thing about Saturday,” Gabriel went pointedly.

Loki rolled her eyes once more. “Fine, _weekend_ crowds are a bitch to go through. Happy now?”

“It helps when you actually make decent sense,” the archangel replied with a smirk, quickly evading the cushion that the Trickster promptly lugged in his direction at the response.

“Idiot,” she went, although the fond grin on her face completely ruined whatever venom that had been in her voice.

Gabriel threw the cushion back at Loki. “You’d have me no other way.”

The girl made a small, amused sound as she caught the cushion and placed it back in its original spot on the couch. “I see your giant ego has been inflated again. I didn’t know sleeping with Cas could give you such a boost in confidence.”

Whatever good mood the archangel had instantly dissipated at that comment. Gabriel instantly scowled, looking none too happy with said comment as he sagged back into the couch. “It’s nothing like that,” he eventually muttered, keeping his gaze set on the blank television.

There was a moment’s pause before Loki let out a soft sigh from beside him. “Sorry, Gabe. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” She shifted around after saying that, moving so that she was facing the archangel properly and could now look at him without the need to twist her head around. “How is Cas, anyway? I felt him leave this morning.”

“He left a note. Said that he’d be out for a while,” Gabriel replied with a shrug, turning his gaze to stare out of the window, and to the apartment standing beside the one Loki lived in. “It’s good that he’s going out again. Means he’s starting to get himself back together.”

The girl let out a hum of agreement to the comment. “I sure hope so too,” she added, following Gabriel’s gaze to the window. Both Tricksters remained quiet for a while after that, letting the silence fill in the blanks for them where words failed to.

It was odd to be doing this again after so long, Gabriel mentally mused to himself. He always had a habit of having his moments of silence in Heaven, a reprieve from all the fighting and backstabbing that his brothers did to each other that did nothing but ruin the peace they all shared once upon a time. When he fled from his home to stay on Earth, things hadn’t been much better either—Earth was a ball of chaos and disorder, a complete difference to what Heaven once was, and above all of that pandemonium stood the Trickster, back then with bright pink hair that was crusted with dried blood and inhumanly blue eyes. 

In the beginning, he had followed her out of curiosity—tales of the Trickster were wild and varied across Heaven, whispered in stories that few could put stock in. The story of a God who had been banished to the Earth and chained with humans, the tales about a nameless God who was the equal and direct opposite of their Father; who could ever believe in something like that? And now that Gabriel was seeing her in the flesh… well, curiosity had always been one of his stronger impulses.

So he had followed her, Heaven’s Messenger after the wayward Trickster, and he watched as chaos followed in her footsteps. He had watched as she razed Pompeii down to the ground and ended up fleeing from the terrible sight that washed before his eyes. Even as an archangel he knew that his power was nothing compared to hers; to her he was just like how humans were to angels, and Gabriel knew better than to get in her way, even as he continued to tail her in the following centuries—except much more carefully this time.

He had thought he was careful then, making sure that he didn’t give any indication of himself away—which was why, when she called him out one day out of the blue, it had done nothing but frighten Gabriel and made the archangel expect the worst. Now though, in retrospect, considering the fact that he was tailing the _Trickster_ , it should have been obvious that she already noticed him from the start and if she wanted to, would have gotten rid of him a long time ago.

 _I’m pretty certain that one of Heaven’s finest should have better things to do than follow me around for the last couple of centuries,_ he could still recall the words that she had spoken back then. _Are things upstairs that boring these days?_

From there it had been… a rather strange friendship of sorts, if Gabriel had to find a way to describe it. The Trickster’s title alone was more than enough to inspire fear in everybody, but yet it was hard to see at first glance just how she could be the Adversary, even though he had witnessed the destruction she wrought down upon Pompeii. She had taken him under her wing and let him tag along with her as she wandered around the world, watching it shift and evolve even as she remained as a constant, unchanging fixture.

In a way, perhaps that was why he hadn’t been so surprised when she had accepted the offer to head the pagans and stand on as their impartial judge. Unlike all of them she had no origin to worry about, no believers or religion that would put her in any difficult position. She was the nameless God, the God without a form or origin or anything at all that could identify her. It did make sense that she would be the best choice for something like that. What _did_ surprise him, was what she had done right after the position had been given to her.

 _Starting from right now, you’re going to be Loki._ And just like that, he was no longer just Gabriel, not simply the Messenger who had fled out of Heaven to roam the Earth—he was Loki the Trickster; a Trickster, one of the first to live under _the_ Trickster’s Law. She had given him a new life and granted him a freedom that Heaven would never have allowed him, and from then on Gabriel knew that he owed a lot of things to her. She had already given him so much, and more, and then now…

Loki shifted beside him at that moment, cutting Gabriel off from his thoughts. Sagging back even more against the couch, the girl closed her eyes and sighed out loudly. “I’m sorry that it turned out this way for both of you. I wish it could be otherwise.”

Gabriel snorted quietly at those words. “It could have been worse,” he simply went in return, remembering what Loki had said to him back after the meeting with the pagans. “At least now it’s certain that Cas and Crowley aren’t so keen to be study partners anymore.” The demon had always been one for his own gain, working for his own survival and power with little regard to anything else; there was no way that the partnership that Cas had with him would ever work out well in the end.

“Still,” the girl muttered, opening her eyes to stare at the blank television. “I really hope that Cas is alright.”

“He’ll get through it,” Gabriel assured the other, his mind flashing back to his time back in Heaven, when Castiel had been his garrison’s best and most sought out strategist—recalling his passion and his unshakable will, two things that had still remained in the angel even until now. “He’s much better than letting himself mope around.”

Despite having said that, Gabriel still couldn’t help but worry as the day continued to pass, and there was still no sign of Castiel to be seen or felt at all. He did trust that the angel would know better than to do anything foolish… but then again, there was no real way of telling just what Cas might do these days; things had changed far too much since the would-be Apocalypse for the archangel to actually know just what went through Castiel’s mind nowadays. As much as he wished it would be otherwise, Gabriel had to admit that things had never been the same since then—this was a world he had never been prepared for, a time he had not seen coming at all. This was now a time when fate and destiny had been torn down, leaving nothing but freedom and choice. It was the ultimate haven… or perhaps the beginning of absolute chaos. There was no real way to tell which was which now.

 _Funny, that’s the only thing I’m certain about,_ the archangel mused darkly to himself, as he glanced up towards the clock hanging from the wall opposite him. Three hours into the next day and Castiel still hadn’t returned; Gabriel would be lying if he said he wasn't extremely worried right now. Considering how things were going at this moment, it was only all too easy to imagine Crowley catching the angel off-guard—or worse, Raphael…

Just as that thought came to mind, the familiar sound of beating wings came from the space beside him, and Gabriel instantly turned his head around, his mouth already starting to open. “Cas—”

The archangel stopped when he found himself staring at the figure of Balthazar instead. The angel flashed a wry smile, opting not to say anything as he reached out instead and grabbed Gabriel by his arm. The world shifted around them before Gabriel had a chance to say anything, flashing to wherever Balthazar had decided to fly to as his destination.

He pulled back once they had landed, scowling just a little at Balthazar as he spoke. “Bal, what the hell are you even—”

“…Gabriel?”

Turning his head at that call, the archangel's eyes widened when he quickly made out (there was sunlight again—he must be back in the States) the tired figure of Castiel sitting on a stool nearby, looking grim and somehow none too pleased about Gabriel's appearance in the place. The angel looked at him for a moment, before transferring his gaze over to Balthazar, who only shrugged nonchalantly at the frown that Castiel was sending him right now.

“I thought that giving you a little moral support would be beneficial,” was all that he said in response.

Castiel closed his eyes at the answer, letting out a weary sigh as he sagged down further on the stool. “We agreed not to bring Gabriel into this, Balthazar.”

 _Into what now?_ The archangel wondered quietly as he watched Balthazar shrug once more and heard his flippant reply. “He's not really into this if we don't tell him how you're about to go on a suicide mission, yes?”

Suicide—wait, what? 

“What?” Gabriel went, eyes going wide as he looked at the two angels, hoping that he hadn't heard it right the first time round. Did Balthazar seriously just say _suicide mission_?

Castiel instantly threw a scowl at the other angel. “Balthazar,” he started warningly.

“Oops,” Balthazar put on what was possibly the worst expression of false surprise ever in the history of mankind, arms and shoulders set in the universal language of 'I don't know'. “Was I not supposed to say how you plan to storm Crowley's lab alone and most likely march to your own death? Because I think I just said it.” He shrugged yet again. “Oops.”

Gabriel looked right at Castiel then, feeling a frown starting to form on his face. “Cas—”

The angel held up a hand to stop the archangel from speaking any further than that. “Don't stop me, Gabriel,” he went, grim determination already written across his face. “What has happened with Crowley is my fault; I will take responsibility for my actions.”

Father, was Cas that set on emulating Dean Winchester? “Taking responsibility doesn't mean throwing yourself into a freaking _suicide mission_ ,” Gabriel hissed out, wondering when things had become this bad. “There are other ways to solve this problem, Cas.”

Castiel, however, was not convinced. “There is no time. We have to stop Crowley before he opens Purgatory.”

“I know,” the archangel returned. “But things are not going to be better, even if you do a suicide mission. There's another way around this. There's always another way.”

The angel only gave him a brief glare at the words, jaw clenched. “You didn't seem so sure of that during the Apocalypse.”

Gabriel flinched at the response, completely taken aback by it. Of all the things to have been said... “That's a different thing, Cas.”

“Because it was destined?” Castiel snapped back, eyes flashing in barely-restrained anger. “Because you believed that it couldn't be changed? Because it has changed, and we proved that destiny isn't absolute. You were just tired of seeing Michael and Lucifer battling each other. I am just tired of having to keep losing the people closest to me. I just want this all to be over, in the same way that you once did.” He looked away then, refusing to look Gabriel in the eye even as he continued to speak. “I tried to make Heaven better. I attempted to show what free will was to the other angels. But they didn't understand, and then Raphael beat me to an inch from death and told me that he wanted to bring back the Apocalypse. He said that he would kill me if I tried to resist him.”

Gabriel knew that he should say something, offer some words in order to give Castiel some peace of mind—but he couldn't find the words to say, unsure of what could even be spoken to the angel. All he could do was to simply listen as Castiel all but let out everything that he had been holding back for what had seemed to be a long, long time.

“I have been _trying_ to do what I can, what I must do in order to preserve everything that has been fought for,” the angel went, and young as he was by the standards of almost all the other angels, Gabriel couldn’t help but hear the note of weariness in Castiel’s voice, the tone of one who had seen and heard and experienced far too much—more than what he could have ever wished for. “I have been _trying_ to stop Raphael from unleashing Apocalypse again and attempting to keep peace up in Heaven. I have been _trying_ to do my best to do what is right, but I have no idea what _is_ right and what is wrong any more here.” He looked back at Gabriel then, and in that moment the archangel could see just how lost Castiel was, to see the hopelessness and desperation painted on his face and showing so blatantly to the world. “Tell me, Gabriel, please. Just what do I have to do?”

And wasn’t that the question everybody wished they had an answer for? Gabriel closed his eyes, trying to think and put his thoughts in order. In a way, he couldn’t fault Cas for his line of thought—after all, he had gone through the same thing as well. In fact, if he had to be honest with himself, he was still going through it; even now, he still had no idea just what he was doing. He was helping Castiel, trying to stop Purgatory from being opened… but for what reason? That answer still eluded him, no matter how much he tried to find one he could settle on.

But right now, this wasn’t about him—this was about Cas, and the ways that he could help the angel. Gabriel opened back his eyes, looking at Castiel and regarded him with a quiet, contemplative look. “I can’t answer that for you, Cas,” he replied, nothing but honestly in his voice. “Nobody can. You need to find the answer yourself.” Funny how all the answers can come for others so easily, when he doesn’t have them for himself.

Castiel looked at him for a few moments before he lowered his gaze, glancing down to the floor instead. A tense moment hung in the air between them, every second a countdown towards what the angel’s decision would turn out to be like.

Balthazar broke the silence eventually, shifting on his foot as he looked at Castiel and asked the question. “So, what’s it going to be? Are you still going, or are you staying instead?”

Gabriel held his breath as Cas raised his head back up, blue eyes darting between them for a few short seconds before landing his gaze squarely on the archangel.

“I think,” Castiel started, slowly and carefully. “That we should go and scout out Crowley’s lab, and then return to plan on what to do next.”

Gabriel instantly deflated at that, sagging as he let out a loud sigh of relief and tension drained out from his body. “Yeah,” he replied, and there was no way to hide the small smile that crossed his face. “Yeah, we can do that.”

They flew over to Crowley’s lab as soon as they were ready—or more accurately, Castiel and Balthazar flew over with Gabriel tagging alongside them, since he was still recovering after all the Grace he had to expend back during the showdown with Eve. It was going to be a while before the archangel could regain even a fraction of his former strength, a fact that Gabriel wasn't all that pleased about. Still, there wasn't anything he could do about it; all that he could do was to simply wait until it did all come back to him.

For now, what was more important was to find a way to stop Crowley without jeopardizing anybody, most of all Castiel. The three of them crouched behind some rubble that stood not too far from the abandoned lab that Crowley had converted into his own place of research. From where they hid, it was easy enough to make out the guards that were stationed at areas around the building, along with the various Enochian wards that were scrawled across the walls, the sigils pulsing a strange, eerie light.

The three of them ducked down as the guards started to move, and Gabriel turned his attention to the two angels, quickly speaking up before Castiel could suggest something possibly stupid and suicidal (for him). “I've got an idea.”

Balthazar snorted quietly. “Of course you do,” he muttered, voice betraying the amusement that his face managed to not show. 

Gabriel gave the angel a brief glare at that, before he turned his attention to Cas. “I'll slip around the guards and go sabotage the wards from inside. Once they fall, the both of you jump in and we'll try to get our Eve and get her out. Between the three of us, there shouldn't be too much of a problem.” Regardless of his current condition, there still weren’t that many things in the world that could take out an archangel. True, he might have to get a little dirty, but it wasn't as if he hadn't gone through—or even done—worse things already.

Castiel took a moment to properly digest the plan given. “There are many demons patrolling the area,” he started after a pause, tilting his head. “How do you plan to avoid them?”

He had to admit that the angel had a point there. With that many guards patrolling around, there was no way Gabriel could slip into the building so easily, much less without meeting with resistance. They couldn't afford that. Thinking back to what he had seen earlier, Gabriel attempted to come up with a new plan that would be far more workable but with no real success. 

Cas took the ongoing silence as his cue to speak up. “I have a plan.”

Balthazar rolled his eyes. “It's time for the kamikaze tactic then, I see,” he spoke up, voice dry. “Excellent.”

The angel looked at his companion with a look that betrayed his confusion, but didn't question the other's words. Instead he looked over their cover, to study the patrolling demons for another moment, before he turned back to both of them and started to talk again. “Balthazar and I will distract the guards, and Gabriel will get past them while we're fighting them. If it’s possible, we'll try to keep the demons off Gabriel for as long as possible until he gets to the wards. Once they're gone, I will get Gabriel and we'll make our way to Crowley.”

“It all sounds so simple when you put it like that,” Balthazar remarked, sarcasm still dripping from his words. Despite the tone though, Gabriel could already see the flash of steel that glinted from the angel blade that he had already brought out; he was more than ready to strike once things were in action.

And when even Balthazar was ready and going, there was no way that Gabriel could oppose now. The archangel glanced between the other two for another moment before he sighed and nodded, resigning himself to Castiel's tactic. So much for the clean and easy way. 

Castiel nodded back, acknowledging Gabriel's agreement as he followed Balthazar and pulled out his own sword. The blade gleamed as it slipped into the physical plane, taking on a definite form from a Grace-mixed intangible one. For a moment, seeing the two angels summoning out their blades did make Gabriel miss his own; he still wasn't able to bring it out from him, as weak as he still was. The archangel figured that he would only ever be able to summon it when he was actually a proper angel once again.

 _And only Father knows when that will be,_ he finished sourly in his head before shifting, moving closer to the edge. He kept one eye on Castiel and Balthazar, who were preparing to move, watching as the two angels spread out their wings; pure white for Cas and a faded ashen gray for Balthazar. Swords gripped tight in their hands, Gabriel gave them one more glance before nodding, giving them the go ahead to start moving. 

Cas was the one who went first as soon as the signal was given; with a beat of his wings the angel moved, flying to right behind one of the demons and promptly stabbed his blade straight through the demon's heart. The demon didn't even have a moment to register what had happened before Grace burned through the veins of the human it was possessing, tearing right into the demon and killing it instantaneously with a brief flash of light from the vessel's eyes and mouth.

A second demon had just rounded the corner when the light came, and instantly it was quickly running towards Castiel, mouth open in order to start shouting. “In—”

Balthazar made his move before the demon could say any more than that, forgoing his blade entirely as he burned the demon out with the power of his Grace alone. Unlike Castiel, he did it with much more subtlety and efficiency, taking out the demon with minimal fanfare—none of which surprised Gabriel; there was a reason why Balthazar had always been regarded as one of the best scouts amongst the Host back up in Heaven.

As soon as both of the demons were taken out, Gabriel quickly took his chance to run for the lab. He burst out from his hiding spot, running as fast as he could towards the entrance. Another pair of guards spotted his presence and started to make their way towards him, but Castiel quickly intercepted and made short work of them. Still, there suddenly seemed to be more and more demons coming out, and the two lesser angels quickly found themselves occupied as the archangel made the final stretch and burst through the entrance.

Stumbling past the threshold Gabriel stopped to catch his breath, thankful for the fact that at least his stamina was recovering quickly. In a few short moments the archangel managed to stop panting, and Gabriel straightened himself back up, ready to start getting around and sabotage the wards. Before he could even take a step, however—

“The Trickster, I presume.”

Gabriel froze at the voice, turning around to face the now-disappeared entrance and stared in surprise at the familiar figure that stood before him. A figure he hadn't seen since the first night when he returned to this world.

“Raphael,” he whispered back, eyes slowly widening. This was Crowley's place, his base of operations—so what was Raphael of all people doing here?

The elder archangel raised his vessel's head at the mention of his name, dark eyes giving Gabriel a brief once-over. “I should have suspected that something was up when I saw you with the Winchesters,” he started, unblinking. “If I had known you were the Trickster back then, I would have gotten rid of you. To think that even you would side with them.”

Gabriel took a moment to quickly run through what Raphael had said in his head before frowning. “And what about you? You seem to be pretty chummy with the King of Hell, from what I can see.” It was the only plausible explanation as to why, and how, Raphael could be within these wards so easily—no doubt Crowley had modified them for Raphael's access. There was also the fact that Castiel was both Raphael and Crowley's common enemy; the two must have decided on an agreement to take him out. The King of Hell and Heaven's last archangel; Gabriel was really glad now that he had managed to stop Cas from doing his suicide mission.

A flicker of annoyance momentarily crossed Raphael's face, but it quickly disappeared and he was speaking again. “Both of us have a common enemy in Castiel. Both of us agree that it was in our best interest to work together and get rid of him.” He paused deliberately, looking at Gabriel for another moment before continuing. “Especially when he has the Trickster on his side.”

The weight of Raphael's gaze was unmistakable as the elder archangel looked at him, and Gabriel managed a small gulp which did nothing to assuage his fear. Although, if he was hearing things correctly... “How'd you figure out it was me?” Gabriel asked, trying to keep his brother occupied as much as possible. Hopefully the two angels outside would be done soon enough, and then he could get them to skedaddle before things got even more complicated than they already were.

“Your story is not unfamiliar to me,” Raphael replied, voice now taking on a haughtier edge. “There is nobody else who can make the pagans fight alongside each other in the way Crowley described to me. Your affairs with them are hardly a secret.” 

So Raphael thought he was actually the real Trickster? Gabriel's mind whirled at this new information, as he tried to devise a way to get out with the assumption that Raphael had made. It was common knowledge that Loki was stronger than any angel in existence, so Raphael wouldn't try to attack him too soon. While the window was still around, Gabriel knew that he needed to escape by hook or by crook; once the elder archangel attacked him, there was no way he was going to get out of this in one piece.

Gabriel shifted slightly, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants and attempting to look as relaxed as possible, even though he was all tense inside right now. “If you know so much about me, then you should know what'll happen if you don't stand down right now,” he returned. “I don't want anybody to get hurt if I can help it.”

Raphael only took a step closer in return, smiling in a way that only sent chills up Gabriel's spine. “You still think you're so powerful, Trickster? The nameless God, the God without a form. I always knew that it would end like this someday.” The smile grew, dark and chilling. “It's time for you to know your place, child.”

What happened next went far too quickly for Gabriel to register properly. Raphael lunged out without warning, jabbing out something right in Gabriel's direction; there was a familiar voice shouting in his ear, and suddenly Gabriel found himself being shoved down to the ground, the cold metal of the floor soaking into his skin and spreading goosebumps all over as he remained stock still. Not because he was cold, but because he was too stunned by the scene that now stood before his eyes.

In front of him stood Loki, now struggling to stand up as blood dripped from her side and started to pool on the floor below her. From where he was, Gabriel could see something sticking out from her hip, partially covered by the hand that Loki was pressing to her wound in a bid to stop the bleeding. It was clear that she was badly hurt from whatever it was that Raphael did to her, which was something of great concern—there shouldn't be anything that could hurt the Trickster _this_ bad.

Gabriel quickly pulled himself together and moved, picking himself up from the floor as he reached for the girl. “Loki—”

Loki stopped him before he could land his hands on her, turning her head to look at him with weary green eyes and placed her palm over his heart. 

“Live,” she whispered, and then there was nothing else but warmth of Grace surging through him, flowing through his veins like cleansing water as voices started to whisper in his ears again, echoing endlessly within his mind. They were voices that he hadn't heard for what seemed like eternity; voices Gabriel didn't know he had missed that much right until now. 

It was the voices of the Host.

Raphael's eyes widened the moment Gabriel regained his connection with the Host, disbelief and shock written on his face as the elder archangel looked at him. “You're—”

With his powers now restored, Gabriel quickly moved before Raphael could manage to get over his surprise. He grabbed Loki just as the girl started to crumple to the ground, pulling out all eight of his wings as he took off towards the first place that came into his mind.

Bobby Singer's house.

The place was empty when Gabriel arrived at the house, a fact that the archangel was silently thankful for, because he really did not need to deal with the Idiotchesters right now. Really, he would have liked to just fly off again, back to Loki's place, but he really wasn't going to risk it because of the still growing wound at the girl's side. Crimson red meshed with dark green as vines spread out from the thing (a nail, he realized now) embedded at her hip, thorns biting into the skin and drawing out even more blood, causing the girl to let out a pained whimper against the archangel’s chest and fuck, a sound like that should not be coming out from the Trickster of all people. Gabriel made a mental resolution to find out just what the hell that nail in her hip was. He was pretty sure that he had seen it somewhere before...

He could think about that later; right now, he needed to get it _out_ of Loki. Heading down to the panic room, the archangel swiftly manoeuvred himself to the cot in the room and placed the girl onto the bed. The Trickster’s face was contorted into an expression of pure agony, teeth gritted and jaw clenched as she turned around to lie on her uninjured side and twisted her hands to grab at the sheets. He could see sweat rolling down from her temples, eyes squeezed so tightly shut as the girl tried to not let any other sounds of pain escape her.

“ _Fuck,_ ” she swore, her voice coming out utterly wrecked as she unconsciously tried to curl up at the pain, only to jerk and make another hurt sound as the vines crawled around her thigh and sank more thorns through her skin. 

Gabriel attempted to keep his voice calm, even though calm was the last thing he was really feeling now. “What happened, Loki? What the hell did Raph attack you with?”

The Trickster made no attempt to respond, too caught up as she was with the pain she was feeling now. The girl tried to bite back her voice but to no avail, crying out again as the thorns went deeper to dig into flesh and her arms trembled with the effort of holding back the pain.

Gabriel cursed mentally, at a loss on exactly what he could do—Loki was too far gone to respond to him, and the Winchesters were at who knows where doing only Dad knew what. The Trickster getting _hurt_ was pretty much the last thing anybody would have expected to happen, so just who could even—

“Gabriel.”

The archangel turned around at the call of his name, blinking in surprise at the appearance of both Castiel and Balthazar. Both angels looked like they’d had better days—Castiel seemed like he had flown at the speed of light, and Balthazar had a couple of bloodstains on his suit—but compared to the anti-god currently trembling on the cot, they were definitely much better. Still, he had to frown a bit in concern and ask. “You guys alright?”

“About as fine as we can get from escaping Raphael’s cronies,” Balthazar replied flippantly as he turned his gaze towards the Trickster, frowning in concern. “They don’t really know how to make things easy.”

Castiel stepped closer to the cot, a worried expression crossing his face as he looked at the girl as well. “What happened to her?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel answered with a shake of his head, unconsciously starting to chew on a corner of his lower lip. “I got cornered, as soon as I entered the lab, by Raphael—” Both Castiel and Balthazar blinked in surprise at the news, but allowed Gabriel to continue nevertheless. “—he was trying to attack me with something, but Loki suddenly appeared and took the attack for me.” He glanced at the nail in question which was still stuck in the girl’s hip, and the two other angels followed the direction in where Gabriel was looking. “The vines started popping out pretty soon after that, while I was flying back here.”

Balthazar made a small hum at Gabriel’s words and promptly crouched down so that he could properly study the nail in detail, and as he did that Castiel turned his attention towards the archangel. “While Balthazar and I were fighting, we thought we felt—” he stopped, trailing off to blink as something abruptly clicked in his mind and Castiel promptly looked at Gabriel again, with an expression that almost resembled awe. “Your Grace,” he breathed out, momentarily stunned—not that Gabriel could blame him; he had been pretty shocked for a moment too, when the voices of the Host suddenly came rushing back to him without warning.

Gabriel nodded quietly, glancing at Loki yet again. “Before that nail got her, she pushed something to me,” he gestured to the spot on his chest where the Trickster had laid her palm earlier. “I think it might be some of her power, or something. It got me back to full archangel status.”

“Raphael recognizes you, then,” Cas noted dutifully.

The archangel nodded once more. “I popped both of us back here before he could do anything though.”

Castiel nodded in acknowledgement, about to say something else before Balthazar’s voice swiftly cut through the two of them. “I think I know what the Trickster’s been shot with.”

Both angels turned around to face Balthazar, with Gabriel being the one to ask the question. “What is it, Bal?”

Balthazar’s expression was grim as he raised his head to glance at both of them and gave the archangel his answer. “It’s the last thing I expected to see, but… if I’m not mistaken, what Loki has in her hip is Helena’s Nail.” He paused for a moment before adding on. “One of them, at least.”

Castiel blinked at that, visibly surprised—or confused, either one. “Helena’s Nail?” he echoed, proceeding to frown right after he said that. “I had no idea that it was a weapon.”

The grim expression on Balthazar’s face became much graver after Castiel made that comment. “I wouldn’t blame you for that, Cas,” he returned, tacking on a sigh at the end of his reply. “Helena’s Nail is an earthbound weapon—one of the few that still remain in existence. Not that the weapon part of the nail has ever been advertised.” the angel added the last part with a shrug. “If I hadn’t been quartermaster back home, I think I wouldn’t even have known about it at all. It’s all very hush-hush, from what I can tell.”

“Even I didn’t know that the nail could be a weapon,” Gabriel added, now frowning himself. To think that Helena’s Nail was actually a weapon… what could this mean for them?

Balthazar had a contemplative look on his face now, as the angel mulled over the entire situation. “If my guess is correct, we didn’t know that the nail would be a weapon, because there wasn’t a need for us to know,” he paused to spare a glance at Loki, frown deepening. “If my hunch is true, the nail is most likely a weapon specifically geared for the Trickster alone.”

Gabriel nodded at the words, being able to see what his protégé meant. There were a couple of weapons up in Heaven made specifically for one purpose alone, but to know that there was actually one made for Loki… “She hasn’t done anything to warrant Heaven’s attention either, not since Pompeii.”

“And we were not allowed to intervene in what happened to Pompeii,” Castiel recalled, blinking once again as the angel put two and two together in his head. Once he did, Castiel promptly started to scowl just a bit. “It was destiny.”

“Yet another part of the _awesome_ plan,” the archangel finished up for them, his voice practically dripping with sarcasm, even as he felt a surge of worry rolling in his gut. Their conversation done, Gabriel glanced over to Loki again, pursing his lips together as he watched the vines continue to wrap around the Trickster’s vessel. The girl was still conscious, but he could tell that she was starting to slip, trembling minutely as the pain grew to be too much for her to bear. Gabriel couldn’t exactly call himself an expert on the weapons of Heaven (except for those he technically owned), but there was only one way to get around this. 

He turned his gaze back to both Castiel and Balthazar, glancing between the two lesser angels before he steeled himself and spoke. “We need to remove the nail from her.”

Both lesser angels instantly widened their eyes at the words, visibly surprised by them. Silence passed between the three of them for a few moments, but eventually Castiel managed to recover first and question the archangel in return. “Is that… wise, Gabriel?”

“No,” he returned honestly, the terseness of his voice audible when he looked at Loki once more, and watched the vines and thorns continuing to grow from the wound. “But it’s not like keeping the nail in her is going to help matters either.”

Balthazar swiftly cut himself back into the conversation. “It’s most likely engineered to destroy or bind the Trickster, one way or another,” he remarked absently, peering closer to where the nail had plunged itself into the girl’s hip. “The vines are very… telling.” He looked back up to the other two angels. “I assume you two _are_ familiar with the biblical version of the crucifixion.”

Gabriel arched up one eyebrow at him. “Do you even need to ask, Bal?” he asked in response.

The sarcasm, on the other hand, flew right over Castiel’s head and instead the angel was putting the facts together in his mind again. “There was something about… the crown of thorns. Jesus wore it when he was crucified.”

“Excellent memory, Cas,” Balthazar returned dryly, and Gabriel could see that his protégé was trying not to sigh _too_ obviously. “The Crown of Thrones, to be precise. But these are all meaningless aesthetics so we won’t trouble ourselves with that.” He waved off the last part of his words with his hand, returning back to his task of studying the nail and the near-silent Loki. “It is a monumentally bad idea, but at this point I believe our only option is to remove the nail from our dear Trickster.”

 _Now_ they were finally getting somewhere. Gabriel resisted the urge to come up with one of his usual witty responses, focus now shifting to helping out the Trickster as he glanced across the numerous vines that had latched itself firmly to Loki’s vessel. “It’s probably a good idea to get rid of the vines and thorns first,” he stated.

Balthazar hummed his agreement. “Getting rid of the supports would be an excellent plan, at least,” the angel remarked on his own end, already reaching out with one hand and placed it on one of the vines. A surge of Grace pulsed through from Balthazar to the vines, and in an instant all of them were disintegrated, not even leaving any remains.

“Best not to give these buggers a chance to come back,” he went as an explanation, swiftly shifting his hand to wrap around the head of the nail and started to tug on it—to no avail.

Both Gabriel and Castiel blinked in surprise at the lack of response; Balthazar was just as taken aback as the both of them as he frowned and started to pull on the nail harder. “This is—”

“Balthazar!” Castiel shouted out suddenly, whipping out his hand without warning. Balthazar barely had a moment to get the message before he was suddenly pushed back by the abrupt force of Castiel’s Grace, just barely avoiding getting his hand caught by the new vines that had just sprouted out from the wound around the nail. Loki let out another whimper from the bed, voice cracking from the pain.

Gabriel watched in concern as the vines started to spread around Loki again, the girl making soft, pained sounds as the thorns embedded themselves into her flesh once more. He could see the color draining from her face already; there wasn’t much time left, and they had to act before it was too late. He turned towards Balthazar, who had gotten back on his feet and was frowning in a way that suggested nothing but bad news. 

“It does not respond to Grace at this state,” he finally concluded after a moment, squeezing his eyes shut. “And no human is going to be able to handle the nail either. Unless there’s a demon kind enough to aid us, I doubt there’s anything we can—”

Castiel cut in then. “There is another way,” he stated, sounding very certain and sure of himself right then.

Balthazar paused, surprise showing on his face as he turned towards the angel. “Pray tell, Cas, what would that way be?”

The angel didn’t respond immediately, staying still for a moment before he slowly turned his head towards Gabriel, and the archangel stared at a loss back at Castiel before the lesser angel spoke. “Gabriel has been a pagan god. He can access that part of him and have the nail recognize him as Loki instead, and remove the nail.”

The words made Balthazar pause for a few seconds himself, trying to see the logic in that comment. “Cassy does have a point,” he admitted after the seconds passed, glancing at Gabriel now as well. “Technically, now that you are officially of this world again, you are also Loki once more. The pagan stuff that the Trickster bestowed onto you should be accessible.”

It made sense, Gabriel thought, pressing his palm against the spot where Loki had pushed against him once more. It was also most likely why the nail was affecting her so badly—she didn’t have the cover of Loki to protect her now. The nail was attacking her as the _Trickster._

 _Damnit, Loki,_ he swore mentally, quickly stepping forward now. Castiel moved as well, his Grace thrumming violently as the lesser angel prepared to burn away the vines for him, even without anybody telling him to. They moved in perfect synchronization; Castiel pressed his palm on the vines and burned them away in the same way Balthazar did, and once that was done the archangel wrapped his hand around the head of the nail and started to pull as he tried to push out the angelic part of him.

Loki.

Loke.

Not Gabriel.

Like a switch suddenly flipping the other way around, Gabriel felt the familiar surge of pagan magic rising up within him, overlapping his Grace as he switched from Gabriel the archangel to Loki the trickster. He could sense both Castiel and Balthazar’s surprise as they felt the shift too, but Gabriel knew he could deal with that later. Right now though, he tightened his grip on the nail and pulled on it again, and this time it came off as easy as pulling out a splinter. As soon as he got the nail out, the wounds on the Trickster quickly started to heal up, the punctures sustained from the thorns sealing themselves—although the blood still remained. Gabriel did his best not to think too much about said blood, as he turned his gaze towards the nail in his hand, debating for a moment before snapping it to a pocket dimension. He would decide on what to do with it later. 

Loki groaned from the bed then, effectively stopping Gabriel’s train of thought, and the archangel quickly turned his attention back to the Trickster as she opened her eyes and blinked at the three angels looking over her.

A weak grin crossed her face. “So now I have three angels on my shoulder? Awesome.”

Once it was certain that Loki was alright and was slowly starting to recover, Balthazar had the dubious honor of getting the Winchesters and Bobby back from wherever they had been, while Gabriel and Castiel helped the girl up to the couch up in the living room. 

All in all, it only took a mere five minutes for both parties before they were done with their respective tasks.

“What the fu—” Dean was already starting to swear once Balthazar brought him here, pausing as his mind slowly registered his surroundings and proceeded to turn around and face where Castiel was sitting. “What's the meaning of this, Cas?” he instantly demanded, scowling harshly.

Loki cut in before Castiel could actually reply, holding up a hand to get the hunter's attention. “Cool your jets there, Dean. I was the one who asked Balthazar for this favor.”

Dean was going to start swearing again from the look on his face, but Sam interrupted before his brother could blow his temper. “What happened to you?” he asked, glancing at the way that Loki was clutching at her wound.

That, at least caused Dean to stop in his tracks. “You're injured?” he asked incredulously, looking at the spot in question. “Who the hell did it?”

“Raphael,” the girl answered, allowing a moment for both Winchesters to digest their surprise before continuing. “Crowley's working with him now, and the fact that they are means that there's not much time left. They're going to open Purgatory soon, and that can't happen, no matter what.”

The brothers frowned at each other at that, while Bobby spoke up. “Why are you so certain?”

“Because there's an eclipse coming,” Loki replied, the expression on her face turning grim now. “And that's the absolute worst time to open Purgatory.”

“'Absolute worst time'?” Sam echoed, questioning.

The Trickster nodded. “There are other spells and ways to open Purgatory, but the one Crowley and Raphael are using is one of the sure-fire absolute ones,” she explained, voice tense. “Absolute because it also releases what Purgatory was made to hold.”

Gabriel felt dread starting to pool in his gut as Dean asked the question. “And what the hell is that?”

The dread turned ice-cold when Loki looked straight at the elder Winchester and answered quietly. “The Leviathans.”

They were the first beasts; created before man and angel, the first true species to have walked the Earth right after God himself.

Gabriel could remember the one time when he had encountered the Leviathans—it was in the very battle that ended up with them being locked away in what would be Purgatory later on, although Gabriel had never known that up until now. God had pretty much taken things into his own hands once the Leviathans had been thoroughly beaten down by him. It was a battle that Gabriel couldn’t forget so easily; up until Lucifer’s betrayal and everything else thereafter, the fight against the first beasts had been the bloodiest, most violent battle he had participated in. Many angels had lost their lives in that fight, the power of the Leviathans far too strong even for the archangels to combat it alone.

It had taken so much of Heaven’s power—and even God’s intervention—to actually be able to pin down the Leviathans and cage them within Purgatory. But now here they were, one would-be Apocalypse later and with the world on the brink of destruction once again, as the threat of the Leviathans hung over his head, much more real and immediate compared to the threat of Crowley or even Raphael. With them, there were still means and ways to deal with them, methods that could prevent them from accomplishing their objectives. The Leviathans, however, were a completely different story. Unlike angels or men, there was virtually nothing in the world that could kill the first beasts; it was one of the reasons why they had been so powerful and so hard to pin down, even with the powers of Heaven raging strong and bright.

And when it had taken almost all of _Heaven_ to put an actual stop to the Leviathans, then how could they even be stopped now? There would be no way at all, and none of them would have even the slightest chance to accomplish something once they were set loose into the world. The thought of that terrified Gabriel more than anything else, because he knew that the moment when Purgatory would be cracked open, that would also be the exact moment when the world was really doomed once and for all—not just the humans this time, but even the angels and the demons and everything else that encompassed this planet. Nothing would be safe from the Leviathans. Not the Winchesters, not Bobby, not him, not Castiel. All of them would be doomed.

“Gabriel.”

The call of his name stopped Gabriel’s train of thoughts, and the archangel looked up to see Castiel standing somewhat awkwardly at the doorway, looking as if he wasn’t certain whether to enter the room or to just go away instead. Smiling a little at the last thought, the archangel gave a small nod as a go ahead for Castiel to enter. “What’s up, Cas?”

Castiel took another moment before he stepped into the room, giving Gabriel a brief once over before speaking. “The Trickster has returned to her place. She asked me to thank you for what you did to help her.”

“It was the least I could do,” the archangel replied, smiling wryly now, as he turned away from Castiel to stare at the wall facing the bed. He could hear the humans going about with their research and preparations in the living room downstairs, knowing what it was that they would have to face tomorrow. It wasn’t just about Crowley and Raphael teaming up now—it was about stopping the end of the world _again_ , and trying to prevent the Leviathans from coming out from their cage.

Silence hung in the air for a moment, and then Castiel shifted, moving himself to sit beside Gabriel on the bed. Another moment passed as the two of them did nothing but stare at the wall, but eventually Cas broke the silence with a remark. “You are preoccupied.”

Gabriel snorted. “Thank you for noticing that, Mr. State-the-Obvious.”

The sarcasm simply flew right over Castiel’s head. The angel shifted again, turning around to face Gabriel this time—Gabriel, who was trying to _not_ notice that fact, but failed to when Castiel reached out and placed a hand on his thigh. 

“You can sit this out, if you wish to,” Cas said quietly, and there was nothing but sincerity and earnestness in his voice. “They will understand your plight.” He paused for a moment, adding on another part almost as an afterthought, and it wasn’t hard to notice how much softer his voice went at this part. “You can return back to the other world you were living in, if you want. You have the strength now.”

And yeah, a part of Gabriel did want to leave, _did_ want to get out of this crazy situation and just go back to the bizzaro world that had no Dean and Sam, no destinies about brother killing brother and no Apocalypses to worry about. There, Gabriel knew, was where he could be safe. But that was all he would ever have there. In that world there would be no Cas—only Misha, and there would be nobody else who would actually know him as _Gabriel_. He would forever be this guy called Richard, a man whose life and identity and history he knew next to nothing about. In that world everything would change around him, but he himself would remain constant, same, unchanging, and eventually there would be nothing in that world for him. Thinking about all of that now, Gabriel didn’t know if he’d be able to actually handle it—handle that length of isolation, of solitude. In this world, at least, there were still the pagans, the Host, the demons and the monsters; but there—there was nothing there at all. There was just him, and that would be it. It wasn’t the same as when he was Loki; this one would be far, far worse, and much, much longer. 

Eventually, all that the archangel could say in response was to ask Castiel a question of his own. “Should I go back there, Cas?”

Castiel didn’t answer immediately, but he lowered his head, and Gabriel could feel the angel tightening his grip slightly on the archangel’s thigh, nails digging slightly into his jeans. Gabriel waited patiently for the other to get his thoughts in order (he knew the question was a sudden thing, and he would be as lost as Cas if it was put to him), quietly prompting him after a few minutes by reaching out and curling his fingers around Castiel’s wrist. The angel made a start at that, eyes flickering towards the hand and lingering there for a moment before he looked back up to Gabriel. 

“If you believe it’s for the best,” were his words.

Not quite the answer Gabriel had been expecting, and the archangel let it show. “Cas…”

“I am in no position to stop you from doing whatever you wish to, Gabriel,” Castiel started, quiet and serious. “And I know you have never wished to be involved in this from the start. So if you believe walking away from here is the best option for you, I will not stop you from doing so. But,” he paused, and suddenly his voice was changing, sounding much more certain and determined than all the other times that Gabriel had seen or heard from him. “If you believe that there is something here worth fighting for, if you believe that this world needs all the help it can get to be saved… then fight with me, Gabriel. Don’t let the people here fall prey to the Leviathans. Don’t let them take away this world.”

Gabriel closed his eyes, not wanting to look at just how Castiel was staring at him right now, all that faith and hope which shouldn’t go to _him_ , because he’s been nothing but a coward and has only walked away from all his battles, one way or another. This faith isn’t his—this is the faith that Castiel had always reserved for Dean, and Gabriel knows that he doesn’t deserve this at all. “Raphael,” he eventually managed out after a pause, eyes still shut. “I can’t fight against him.”

“Then I will fight him for you,” Castiel returned simply, and Gabriel can feel the angel shifting closer, can feel the pressure of the palm pressing down on his thigh and the heat of Castiel’s body as he leaned in closer and closer, stopping just inches apart from one another. He could feel Cas’ breath brushing right over his lips as the angel spoke again, so quietly, as if they were sharing a little secret between them. “You are not alone here, Gabriel. You don’t have to face your battles alone.”

There were many things that Gabriel could say in response to something like that—some detracting, others evasive, the rest only Father-knew-what—but Castiel didn’t even give the archangel a chance to form the syllables to his answer. The angel closed the last few inches between them and initiated things, pressing his lips against Gabriel’s and simply letting his actions do the rest of the talking. And that was something Gabriel could go with easily enough. 

He let Castiel write about companionship and support and _love_ against his skin with his lips and fingers and tongue, saying _stay, don’t go, let me walk with you_ and _I will be with you_ while his kisses felt like apologies and gratitude all in one. And in response Gabriel used his hands and teeth and cock to keep Castiel with him, ground the angel next to him and before him and _inside_ him as he answered _yes, yes, yes, I’ll stay here_ and _always stay with me, Cas, because I need you._


	14. thirteenth act

**XIII: thirteenth act—carry on my wayward son.**

They began their journey first thing in the morning.

Bobby sent them off with a gruff reminder to call him when they needed any help ‘because you idjits are going to need it’, and after having discussed it over breakfast, the four of them had agreed that it might be best that the brothers drive over to their destination, rather than have the angels zap them.

There were a few reasons for this: one, both Sam and Dean were going to need all the weapons they could carry in the Impala, and it would be a little impractical for Gabriel and Castiel to keep drawing out weapons for them, when they needed to save up all the energy they could for the oncoming battle. Going up against both Crowley _and_ Raphael wasn’t going to be an easy feat, even with Gabriel having regained his powers. There were still many other aspects that could be used against them. Two, the spell they had to open up Purgatory wouldn't work until the lunar eclipse, as Loki had informed them last night. And three, letting Dean drive would simply benefit everybody in the long run—the less he had to complain about, the better it would be for everyone involved.

Once the Winchesters were ready and on their way towards their destination, Castiel returned to Heaven in order to muster up whatever supporters still sticking around to help him. Gabriel went off to the pagans with Loki, finding the ones agreeable to enter the final battleground and settle things once and for all. Not many of the gods were willing to put themselves up against angels and demons so readily, especially not after the Judeo-Christian Apocalypse and the damage that Lucifer had wrought across the pantheons. A few of them did change their minds though, after Loki brought up the Leviathans and the threat they posed to them and the world. Others only scoffed and waved the danger away, saying that they were under no obligation to help.

By the time nightfall came and time was up, the two Tricksters had only managed to get about ten or so of the pagans to help them out; the numbers included Fenrir and the others who helped out at Oregon, Orpheus, Amaterasu, Susano-o and last but not least Kali as well as Baldur. To say that Gabriel was surprised with the last two would be an understatement, but there was no real time to ask either of them for their reasons to help out.

“You gotta go, Gabe,” Loki nudged him with her elbow, throwing a pointed look in the general direction of where the Winchesters—as well as the decisive battleground—would be. “I'll round up the guys who're helping out and send them over your way later, as soon as possible.”

Gabriel nodded, already feeling the dreading anticipation building up in his gut. This was it, he knew. Once he went off, there was no telling what could happen. He might live or he might die instead, or maybe something else entirely different would happen. There was no way of knowing now, what with the world the way it was. Only time could tell.

He turned and gave the Trickster one last glance, slowly starting to spread out all eight of his wings. “If anything happens to me...” he started, wanting to cover his bases. He _had_ to cover his bases—he couldn't run away now, not at this point. This wasn't like with the Apocalypse and Lucifer; this was much more than that, more than just choosing a side and sticking with it. This was about fighting for what he had come to believe in, and the things in the world he wanted to protect. There wasn't many... but it was still more than enough for him. He had never needed so much right from the start anyway.

Loki only smiled gently and nodded in response. “Don't worry,” she assured him, “I know you'll be fine.”

The archangel smiled back before he took off to his destination, and then the world vanished before him in a blur and the loud beat of giant wings.

Of all the places in the world, the last spot that Gabriel expected to find himself going to again was the Elysian Fields hotel.

The place had been deserted ever since the incident with Lucifer, and sometime during the time between then and now, most of the lights had gone out. The lights at the front of the establishment remained as some of the few that still worked, although they flickered from time to time. 

Tonight though, it was deserted no longer, as Gabriel observed the mix of demons and angels that patrolled around the perimeter of the building. This night stood as the most important one for all of them—this was the night the eclipse would happen, and once the eclipse passed there wouldn't be another eclipse like this for a good long while. This would be the night where everything was going to be settled; one side would emerge victorious, or maybe none of them would win at all. The latter option seemed far more likely once the Leviathans were released.

Still, if the archangel had to be honest, what really unnerved him more at this moment was the countless number of crows that seemed to pop up all over the place. He could see hundreds of them on trees and rocks and anything else that they could perch on, including the roof of the hotel. All of them did nothing but watch silently, dark eyes staring at the battleground that laid out before them. Considering what Gabriel did know about the crows, it was safe to say that their presence was a little jarring, a sentiment that both Winchesters seemed to share.

“What the hell is with all these crows?” Dean asked not too kindly as he attempted to shoo away some of the birds, but to no effect; all the crows did was to squawk and flap their wings in response. 

Sam gave a cursory look at the birds himself, frowning. “Did Crow call them here?”

“Maybe yes, maybe no, maybe maybe.”

All three heads turned around at the new-familiar raspy voice coming from behind them, and Dean instantly scowled at the figure that had appeared. “What are you doing here, birdbrain?”

Jack Crow hardly seemed ruffled by the moniker that Dean had just addressed him by, and if anything, only looked amused judging from the gleam in his wine-red eyes. The boy Trickster straightened his fedora, pulling the brim of it upwards, so that his face was fully visible in the dim moonlight, highlighting the sharp contours of both his cheeks and his chin. 

“Is there a reason for everything that we do?” the boy rasped out, slowly tilting his head. “Just as there is order there is also chaos, and as there is life there is also death.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Dean demanded, never having been one for cryptic and strange answers. Considering that this was Jack Crow they were currently talking to, Gabriel couldn't really blame him for that.

Rather than answer the hunter, Crow instead opted to do a humanly impossible back flip that landed him right onto the hood of the Impala, an action that instantly earned a shout from Dean (“Watch where you're jumping, asshole!”) and a sympathetic wince from Sam, while Gabriel let out his own snort of amusement. The boy proceeded to crouch on the edge of the hood, despite the death glares that Dean was throwing at him now, perching on it in the same way that a bird (crow) would. Red eyes twinkled at them once more before the boy finally did respond. “We are the Murder, the ones who ferry the soul between reality and non-existence. And when the soul dies, we are the ones who bring the tattered remains back to the Lake of Souls, where they are remade and repaired and then the cycle begins anew.”

Gabriel's eyes widened as the name clicked in his mind. _The Lake of Souls._ But that place was in—“Purgatory.”

Both Winchesters instantly turned their heads to him, their eyes just as wide as his as they, too, put two and two together. “Then the human souls—” Sam started, quickly linking everything together in his head.

Crow dipped his head, and already they could see the boy start to fade, letting the darkness of the night swallow him back up. “ _Where everybody comes from and nobody goes,_ ” he quoted turning more and more transparent until the last thing they saw was the smile that had been on his face. “ _That's where you're gonna find Jack's crows._ ” With the last part spoken out, the boy vanished entirely, leaving nothing but mist and shadows in his wake.

“Where _everybody_ comes from,” Gabriel echoed blankly after a pause, seeing the truth in the phrase now. “Everybody. As in people. Humans.”

Dean's expression hardened. “That means there's a whole lake of _human souls_ bubbling around in Purgatory, too?”

“The whole expression of being boiled,” Sam swiftly pointed out, looking between the other two. “It's like water—boiling cleans it. Burns out all the impurities. Makes it pure again.”

“And when the soul is pure again, the crows bring it back out,” Gabriel finished, feeling stuck between awe and uncertainty. To think that such a system had been in place and he had never known about it… Father, this was beyond anything he could have ever guessed. “If Crowley and Raphael are going to open Purgatory, I'm pretty sure that all those new souls will be one heck of a power boost.”

“Which is pretty much the last thing that we need right now,” Dean went with a scowl, turning upwards to the sky after that and swearing. “Goddammit.”

It was at that moment when Cas decided to finally show up, appearing with the beat of his own wings, looking at the rest of them. “I've gathered as many helpers as I can,” he reported, inclining his head. “I've directed them to spread out around the field. They will start attacking at my signal.”

Dean took out his gun and cocked it once Cas said that, looking just about as grim and ready as he could ever be. “Well then,” he said, “Let's get this show on the road.”

Castiel's supporters were the ones who moved first. They had already been ready and waiting for the command, and once the signal had been given all of them immediately rushed out from their spots, fierce and strong like the soldiers they were all supposed to be, as they clashed head on with demons and angels alike.

Gabriel started to move once the fight began, splitting himself from the Winchesters as he brought out his wings and started to dart around the skirmishes, both physical as well as metaphysical. Angels from both factions were flashing around him as he flew, most of them occupied, but some of them with the intent of going after him despite knowing who he was. Gabriel managed to shake them off quick enough—no angel could ever really be as fast as an Archangel, and there was a reason why he had the title of Messenger—and some others were repelled by the ones in Castiel's faction, pushing his pursuers back and using the chance to deal some damage.

“Go with haste, brother!” Gabriel heard one of them call out to him, when they clashed against another set of the archangel's pursuers, and Gabriel only had a moment to nod in acknowledgment as he quickened his pace. The world blurred around him at the velocity of his flight, so fast that even the angels and demons were nothing but indistinguishable sensations—something that Gabriel was thankful for, in his mind. There was only so long he could see the angels battling and killing each other without remorse or regret. It did nothing but remind him of the battle that led to Lucifer's Falling.

 _Why would you let this happen, Raph?_ The archangel thought to himself as he pushed himself harder, wanting to cross the distance as quickly as he could. The sooner this would end, the sooner all this killing would stop. It needed to end, and it needed to end _now_.

As he neared the building, Gabriel could feel the strength of the Enochian wards repelling him, resisting his presence like a physical wall. Of course, as a proper archangel once again, the wards had their effect on him again, but it wasn't as if Gabriel was _just_ an angel, or _just_ an archangel. Gabriel started to draw back his wings, two at a time as he slowed down his flight, locking up the angel part of him while bringing out the other side that the Trickster had granted him—the identity of Loki, the god of mischief, the Trickster of the Norse pantheon. 

He stumbled on the ground when he tucked away the last of his wings, sealing them up momentarily with the pagan magic that now ran across his veins. He could feel the presence of the Enochian wards instantly disappearing from his senses, rendered all but useless now against his non-angelic side. 

Still, things were hardly going to get any easier with the withdrawal of his Grace. A pair of angels from Raphael's camp were instantly on him the moment Gabriel sealed up his angelic powers, rushing at him with their swords as they snarled out at him in anger. “Betrayer!”

“Nope,” Gabriel replied, readying his fingers. “Just a Trickster.” He snapped his fingers right after that, and in the next instant a purple and red blur flashed pass Gabriel, knocking down the two angels and effectively stopping them in their tracks. The archangel closed his eyes the next second after that, preventing his eyeballs from being burnt out as both of them were killed (Gabriel quickly suspected that Loki must have done something to make that possible, because he's pretty sure that only angels could kill angels).

He only opened his eyes after a pause, trying to avoid looking at the scorch marks that had appeared on the ground (he knew all too well what they were) and directed his gaze to the giant purple and crimson furred wolf standing before him. “Nice job, Fen.”

Fenrir let out a low growl from the back of his throat, eyeing Gabriel for a few silent moments before replying mentally. _All of us have arrived; we've split into groups as per instructed and performing the roles the Trickster has assigned to us,_ he paused for a moment before adding on almost reluctantly, _I will accompany you._

Somehow, Gabriel felt himself grinning at the words. “Aw, Fen. I didn't know you cared.”

The wolf snorted, quickly glancing away. _This is not the time for endearments._

“I know,” the archangel quickly turned serious again, turning to look at the entrance of the hotel. “The infiltration is over. Time for the sabotage.”

To put it in layman's terms, the plan went something like this: Gabriel, like before, would infiltrate the building and sabotage the wards keeping Castiel and his angels away. One of the pagan groups would help the Winchesters get to the building while the rest would help in the battle. Once the wards fell, it would be a direct charge into the building, and hopefully the confusion caused by that would let them locate and get to where Crowley and Raphael would be performing the spell without much trouble. In a nutshell, the entire plan had a heavy reliance on Gabriel, which was kind of ironic considering the entire situation. Still, the archangel wasn't going to say anything about it—he had chosen to fight, after all. He had made his decision to stay here and fight for this world he had lived in and ended up dying in.

Personally, Gabriel was a bit skeptical that things could work out _that_ well, especially since he had employed pretty much the same trick last time (granted, though, he still hadn't gotten his powers back then). Then again, there really wasn't much in the world that could go up against a pagan god, including Enochian; the basis of their respective powers was on a far different level, wholly separate from each other. It had been an old loophole that had existed for a long time already, one that had no way of being corrected—it was something that just stuck on.

There had been many times when Gabriel had abused said loophole, but up until now it wasn't on the level of what he was doing right now. As he darted around the corridors of the hotel he could still feel the power of the Enochian wards pressing down on him, trying to reach into his angelic side and attack it. The pagan part of him though managed to prevent that from happening, blocking out the wards from getting to him. Still, Gabriel knew that it was just a matter of time before that would change—he could feel his magic chipping away, wearing down from the effort of keeping his Grace hidden. He needed to destroy the wards as soon as possible, before he used up all the pagan magic within him.

Turning left at the next intersection, the archangel glanced around as he moved, trying his best to sense which room held the angel (or angels) that were putting up the wards. There was no way wards like these could just be painted on, as far as Gabriel was aware of; at least one angel needed to maintain them constantly, or it would easily fall from the fierceness of the battle.

 _It's gotta be at a central location..._ Gabriel thought to himself as he continued to search for his target—not exactly the easiest thing to do, considering how more often than not the archangel relied on his Grace to do the job instead. Just using his pagan magic was something that he had not done for a good, long while, and Gabriel had to admit that he was pretty rusty with it. Not exactly the best condition to do this in, but it wasn't like they had any other chances. This was the only one they got.

Fenrir ran alongside him all this while, the wolf already having done a good deal to help in narrowing down where they had to search (contrary to what it looked on the outside, the place was actually quite big); it was Fenrir that got him down to his corridor, and had announced that they were close to their target when they made a right at the next intersection they encountered. 

_I can smell their Grace,_ the wolf-god remarked, and then snorted. _It reeks of betrayal._

Gabriel frowned at the word that Fenrir had used. Considering everything, _betrayal_ seemed like a pretty strange word. Still, the archangel supposed he could think about it later. Right now, what was more important was to take down the wards and get this entire show rolling.

“Lead me over, Fen,” he replied, slowing down just enough so that the canine could take over and lead the way.

The wolf growled an affirmative, quickening his pace to move ahead and start bringing the archangel towards their location. Gabriel swiftly followed behind, tuning his senses solely onto Fenrir now and simply let the wolf-god do the directing. He followed the wolf up a few set of stairs and a couple more turns, running through the corridors for a while more before Fenrir sent over a signal. _We're close._

Gabriel sent out an acknowledgement, almost going to reach out for his blade before he remember that he couldn't, not until the wards were down. Mentally cursing himself for that lack of foresight, he reached out to Fenrir once again. _You're going to have to do the battling here, Fen._

Fenrir snorted in response. _Why do you think I'm here?_ He quipped back easily, before proceeding to let out a roar and smashed through the door without pause. Gabriel used the ensuing dust cloud as a cover and let himself into the room, although he barely took a few steps in before a sudden flare of Grace burst out from almost nowhere—Fenrir had already made his first kill. The archangel raised an arm to shield his eyes, blocking out the light even as he felt the force of said Grace sweep past him and across the rest of the room. 

The world slowly returned as he lowered his hand, afterimages dancing across his eyes which Gabriel attempted to shake off quickly as he started to move. The death of one of the angels had already attracted the attention of the rest, and this time he could sense them coming towards both him and Fenrir, and there was no way they could take on something of that number. He needed to get rid of the wards. Now.

Gabriel quickly scanned around the room, attempting to locate where the master ward was as Fenrir continued to fight against the rest of the angels. The wolf-god had assumed his human form now, darting around quickly and neatly avoiding all the attacks that the angels were directing towards him. It was only a matter of time though before that would change, and Gabriel had to finish his objective before that happened. Taking a chance, the archangel reached deep inside him, dipping briefly into his Grace. Instantly, he could feel the agony of the Enochian wards pulling at him from top and bottom, left and right, threading through all eight of his wings and pinning them down to the ground. It hurt almost unlike anything he had felt before, but Gabriel gritted his teeth and pushed through the pain and reached out with his angelic senses to find... _there!_

He gasped out in relief when he withdrew from his Grace, nearly falling onto his knees from the effort of the last minute or two. Still, he managed to keep himself upright, only buckling a little before he grabbed the wall for support and pulled himself back together, gathering what strength he could muster up, he started to move towards where he had sensed the master ward. It was hardly far from where he was, so if he moved just a little bit more—

_Look out!_

Gabriel barely had a moment to react to the warning before he found himself being abruptly shoved down to the ground, but he didn't even need to see what happened to know what had just taken place, just by hearing the grunt of pain that came afterward.

“Fenrir!” he cried out in alarm, whipping around to stare at the sight of his _son_ being stabbed through the side with an angel blade. The sight was like lighting a match into a barrel of oil—Gabriel could feel both his power and Grace bubbling in rage, boiling violently as anger coursed through him. The archangel let out a violent cry, pushing himself up on his feet and promptly threw himself towards Fenrir and the angels who had hurt his own child so.

The angels instantly geared up to attack, but fighting was not what Gabriel was after, not now. He brushed past the angels, startling them when he didn't attack, and instead slammed his palm right onto the wall—right over where the master ward was. 

“ _End,_ ” the archangel hissed out in Enochian, and in that instant he felt the world changing around him. Under his hand the ward dissipated, burned away by his power and he could literally feel the earth moving under his feet. His wings burst out from the confines of his pagan magic, brought back out once more when the oppression of his Grace was taken away and Gabriel could feel everything now rushing back through his form, entwining tightly with the pagan part of him. It was just like before—except not wholly, because now things were different. Now, he wasn't running away.

Gabriel could feel the other angels already scattering, fleeing from the avenging wrath of an archangel—but Gabriel had never been one for killing. He let them run off, watching as they all brought out their wings and escaped. He turned his gaze down once they were gone, gazing at the wounded figure of Fenrir as he knelt down and placed a hand on the wolf-god's wound, instantly healing it.

Fenrir groaned and opened his eyes, slowly focusing on the archangel as he muttered quietly. “...Father?”

Gabriel could feel tears starting to swell up in his eyes, but he quickly pushed them back before they could be seen and smiled at his son. “Yeah, Fen. I'm here.”

The archangel spent a few minutes to bring Fenrir over to somewhere safe, ensuring that the wolf-god was alright before he returned back to the battlefield. Now that the wards were down Castiel's supporters were gaining an edge, no longer held down by the spells that were restricting them. The other pagans were gaining ground as well now, spurred forward by what he and Fenrir had managed to accomplish.

Castiel joined him as he was flying back to the hotel, looking notably worn and tired but still managing to keep himself going. “Sam and Dean have managed to get into the hotel,” he reported, raising his voice over the noise of the battlefield.

“Alright,” Gabriel returned, pushing himself faster with his wings. “Let's bring this fight over to Crowley and Raphael.” Saying that, he burst through the doors with Castiel alongside him, and the air thundered from the sound from all of his eight wings when he appeared beside where Dean and Sam were currently hiding, angel blades in their hands. 

Both Winchesters jumped when they heard his wings, and Dean almost poked his eye out with the blade he had been holding before managing to actually relax. “Jesus, Gabriel,” he started, sounding both relieved and irritated at the same time. “Don't just pop up like Cas does.”

“Would it make you feel better if I said 'no'?” the archangel replied smartly, smiling in amusement at the glare that Dean sent back to him in return. Ah, good times, good times. It was so nice to know that some of the better things never really seemed to change.

Sam cleared his throat to get their attention. “The eclipse is about to start any time now.”

“This will be our last stand,” stated Castiel in his matter-of-fact way, as the angel raised his sword. “If we fail, then everything will be over.”

“Not that we'll let that happen,” Gabriel tacked on at the end, glancing at the door. “It's all or nothing, kiddos. You guys ready for this?”

Dean, of course, was the one who made the cliché reply. “We were _born_ ready,” he went without a beat, and Sam instantly rolled his eyes at the cheesiness of that answer while Castiel tilted his head and frowned, most possibly trying to discern if Dean's answer was to be taken literally or not. (Considering everything though, Gabriel had a good feeling that it would be the former.) Sighing himself, Gabriel took a moment as he closed his eyes and drew out his sword from the confines of his Grace, and he could hear it singing as he brought his blade out to the physical plane, Grace calling out in a familiar tune of might and strength as his sword wholly and truly proved that he was once again the Messenger of Heaven.

The blade flashed under the lights as Gabriel held it up, feeling the familiar weight of it resting in his hand. It was strange, now that he thought about it—this was almost just like when he was going to face Lucifer back then, standing here with his sword and a determination to see this thing through. Except then it still had been a means of escape, to end the fate he dreaded so much to see. Now this was him _standing up_ for once, to fight and to possibly die for the things he had loved and enjoyed in this world... and Gabriel didn't see any problem with it at all. If he died, then at least he’d go down properly this time.

Gabriel lowered his hand back down, sucking in a deep breath to steel himself before he started to walk, taking step by step towards the double doors that would lead him to the end of this long, long road.

He entered by bursting through the doors, Castiel and the Winchesters following behind him. The four of them quickly spread out—Castiel went after Crowley while Sam and Dean got rid of the mooks and tried to get Eve; Gabriel on the other hand dove straight for Raphael, roaring as he swung out his blade to clash against the one belonging to the other archangel. The swords met in a ringing clash that sounded through the entire room, strong enough that it made the demons around them falter momentarily in their tracks.

It was Raphael who spoke first, speaking to him through gritted teeth. “Step down, brother.”

“I think I'll take a rain check on that,” Gabriel returned before he tightened the grip he had around his sword and shoved hard against the other archangel, pushing him away. Raphael quickly leaped back, his four pairs of wings beating for a moment as he (or she, depending on one’s point of view) drifted backwards with the momentum from his action.

The elder archangel straightened himself on the ground soon enough, the expression on his vessel’s face hardening as he gazed at Gabriel with an expression that nearly bordered on disgust. “Is this what you choose, Gabriel?” he asked, almost hissing out the words. “To side with filth like _them_ instead? I thought of you as better than that.”

Gabriel only smiled wryly at the question. “I don’t know, Raph,” he answered, jerking his head slightly in the general direction of where Crowley was going around, generally avoiding the battle as much as he could. “You seem to be pretty chummy with the King of Hell from what I can tell.”

“Castiel is the one who stared it first,” Raphael replied icily, the corners of his lips curling in disgust. “I am only doing what I must to ensure victory.”

“Because consorting with demons always works out in the end,” Gabriel drawled back, eyes darting around for a moment to try and catch sight of Eve, although to no avail—hopefully that meant that the Winchesters managed to accomplish their part. “You know that this ain’t going to go the way you want it to, Raph. Stop this before it’s too late.”

“And let an abomination like Castiel go around scot free?” the elder archangel shot back with a scowl. “This is not just about who leads Heaven, Gabriel. This is about the sins that Castiel brings with him everywhere he goes. To end the charade he puts on will be but a mercy to him.” 

Gabriel’s expression instantly darkened upon hearing Raphael’s response, wings flaring up as a surge of anger boiled across his Grace. He really loved his brother, he really did, but there were just some lines that even Raphael couldn’t cross, and this was one of them. “Castiel is a hundred, a thousand times better than you’ll ever be, Raph,” he retorted sharply, voice rising along with the flare of his rage. “He is a far better angel than _any_ of us can be. Somebody like you will just never understand the miracle that Cas actually is.”

“What I see is nothing but an abomination of his own making,” Raphael returned, his own expression darkening as well. “It is a pity that you have been deceived by his lies, brother. Or was it the Trickster who lured you instead?”

“She has nothing to do with this,” Gabriel instantly snapped back. “I chose to help Castiel of my own free will.” Because Cas was the one who chose to believe in him in the end, despite everything. Cas was the one who had faith in him and wouldn’t give up on him, even though he hadn’t deserved any of that at all, because he knew that faith was supposed to be for _Dean_. But yet Cas had given it to him freely, and there was nothing else that Gabriel could do but give back that same faith, that same love. 

Raphael quickly turned sour at the admission, and Gabriel could see his jaw clenching as the elder archangel took on a battle stance and got ready to attack. “Then I suppose this is where our ties will end, brother,” he said, simply and cleanly, and even though Gabriel did know this would happen, it still didn’t stop him from feeling the pain of those words. No matter what, Raphael had still been one of his closest brothers for an indescribable amount of time, and to lose him like this… it really hurt a lot.

Still, if this was how things were going to go then Gabriel knew this was what needed to be done. Pushing away the pain and the sorrow, Gabriel took on his own stance, sword humming in his hand as the two archangels prepared to face off in what would be the first and last battle between them.

Raphael was the one who moved first, lunging forward with his sword in a jab as the elder archangel attempted to draw first blood. Gabriel quickly shifted back to avoid the blade before retaliating with a swing of his own, twisting around and trying to strike Raphael by his side. In response Raphael ducked down, neatly avoiding the blow and kept himself low to try and catch Gabriel off guard from below.

Managing to catch that in time, Gabriel jumped before Raphael could attack, pressing down against the blade with the heel of his shoe and used it as leverage to push himself onto the nearest wall and then leaping off that wall as well, using the momentum to his advantage as he swooped in and attacked Raphael from behind. The elder archangel managed to intercept him before he could strike properly, clashing against Gabriel with their swords for another moment more before pushing him back, and then going forward again to continue their fight.

That was how the battle went on between the two archangels, the moments filled with nothing but action and reaction as they pitted themselves against one another. Both of them fought with an intensity not seen from either of them since the Fall, their wrath and Grace easily felt by all within the room. Their blades continued to clash against each other in sharp, ringing tones, sparks flashing as their Grace burned and collided with each other, neither of the archangels giving an inch to the other. They couldn’t, not when there was so much at stake on both ends.

Eventually, though, Gabriel started to gain an edge, spurred on by the experiences he had on Earth while he still had been Loki. Unlike Raphael who had only been up in Heaven for the longest time, Gabriel himself had spent far more time away from Heaven and so was much more used to his physical body than Raphael would ever be. Raphael wasn’t used to the reactions of the human body and of the countless instincts built in naturally to the human mind and how they would affect him in battle. 

Gabriel knew though, and he used that to his advantage, tricking the instincts of Raphael’s human vessel to react in ways that could be exploited to his benefit, and wore the other archangel down with jabs and strikes and cuts. None of them were fatal, but all of them were enough to slow down Raphael considerably and that gave Gabriel a bit of hope. If he could drag this out long enough, occupy Raphael until the Winchesters managed to get Eve out then maybe, just maybe—

Raphael stumbled back, a hand clutched around one of the bigger wounds that Gabriel had inflicted on him. The angel blade that he had been holding dropped onto the ground with a clatter as Raphael grasped at the corner of one of the tables, struggling to keep upright. Gabriel took a few cautious steps closer, looking not as bloodied as the other was, but almost just as worn out from their battle. He made sure to keep a tight grip around his sword, eying Raphael carefully for a moment before speaking. “We don’t need to fight anymore, Raph. Just stand down, and this can be over easily.”

Rather than listening to him however, Raphael only scowled, nothing but disgust written across his vessel’s face. “I will _never_ submit to the likes of you and your ilk,” he snarled out.

“Raph—” Gabriel tried to reason again, to do something and just stop this before it was too late, but the elder archangel cut across him with the words that Gabriel hoped he never had to hear.

“Crowley! Finish the ritual!”

Everybody stopped for a moment at the shout, including Dean and Sam who had managed to get the bloodied, battered body of Eve nearly to the door. Standing on the opposite side of the room where the archangels were, Crowley raised a hand and smirked thoroughly, looking quite victorious. “About bloody time, I say,” he remarked before proceeding to snap his fingers.

The doors in front of the Winchesters instantly burst wide open, and there was no time to react at all before giant black blurs lunged out from the other side of the threshold and swiftly dragged Eve away from the Winchester’s grip, for no human could ever match the monstrous strength that hellhounds possessed. Castiel quickly moved, taking both Sam and Dean out of harm’s way as the hellhounds literally tore into Eve, sending blood splattering everywhere across the ground and Gabriel could do nothing but stare at the sight of the Mother of All being made into hellhound chow.

Sam, however, quickly noticed something else entirely, and he swiftly pointed it out to the rest of them. “The blood,” he breathed out, gesturing to the stained floor at their feet.

Gabriel quickly followed the human's gaze down to the ground, watching as Eve's blood started to move by itself, twisting and turning across the marble-tiled floor as it all flowed towards the nearest wall and arranged itself into an intricate pattern, which Gabriel could instantly place in his mind, even though he had only seen it one other time before, and that had been even before the concept of time itself even existed. 

“No!” the archangel shouted, but it was too late—he could already feel the air starting to crackle and hum with energy from the power of the spell, the very world seemingly shifting around him as the blood on the wall flared with an unholy red light. A thunderous crack resounded from the wall, and then two, and then the light burst out in a giant shockwave that rippled through and sent him stumbling backwards from the sheer _force_ of it. His wings flared out, trying to balance him and keep Gabriel on his feet as the archangel tried to see through the light and fire of Purgatory, feeling the heat of it on his skin.

Both Crowley and Raphael were standing at the entrance, and the King of Hell was making a complex gesture with his hand, getting ready to bring the souls forth from Purgatory. Gabriel could hear it all too easily—the sounds of tens and hundreds and thousands and millions of souls rushing out from all corners of Purgatory and barrelling through this one, single exit that was now open to them. It was a disjointed canopy of roars, a staccato of howls and moans of countless souls, old and new, monster and human, now reaching out through to the other side, all of them clambering for freedom from the confines of that place.

Crowley raised his hand, drawing out the souls and the roar grew louder as Gabriel could see them as the light finally faded, overtaken by the near-blinding flare of a thousand million souls as they wormed their way through the hole in Purgatory and started to come out—

Suddenly the demon found himself being flung aside, thrown to the opposite wall without a second thought and Crowley grunted as he slammed into a spot next to Gabriel and crumpled down to the floor. He wasn't knocked out nor injured too harshly, but all the same the damage had already been done, and Crowley grunted as he pushed himself up to his feet and scowled in thinly-veiled disgust at the perpetrator.

“And you all say _we're_ the untrustworthy ones,” the King of Hell muttered darkly, turning his head just enough to spare Gabriel a glance. “Ball's in your court now, Gabriel.” And after having said that he swiftly disappeared, making an exit before things got too out of hand for his tastes.

Gabriel turned back towards Raphael once Crowley was gone, staring with wide, surprised eyes as he could only watch the sight of the elder archangel taking in all the souls that were spiralling out from Purgatory, knowing that there was nothing he could do about it now. Castiel and the Winchesters had the same reaction as well, all three of them doing nothing more but to stay rooted to the ground and look completely lost as they watched Raphael claiming everything that came out from Purgatory. Everything, including the Leviathans.

With the countless number of souls that came out from Purgatory, it almost seemed like forever in its own way before the last of them entered Raphael, and once the last soul left, the wall snapped itself back together, almost looking as if it wasn't touched at all, save for the now dried blood pattern painted across the surface. The ensuing silence that followed after everything, felt almost too overwhelming, speaking of too many things that Gabriel did not dare to think about at this moment. He glanced towards Castiel, Sam and Dean, giving them a small nod before he returned his gaze to the now still and silent Raphael and took a small, cautious step forward, eyeing the other archangel carefully. 

“Raph?” he ventured slowly, taking another step forward, fingers itching to bring out his angel blade again, because his senses were screaming at him to _get out get out this isn't Raphael anymore GET OUT_. “Raph? You in there? Speak to me, bro.”

There was still no response from Raphael, and Gabriel took his chances and got even closer, reaching out with one arm towards the other's shoulder and nearly touching him—

It was at that moment that Raphael chose to open his eyes, and Gabriel only had a split second to see the countless souls reflected in them before he found himself being thrown back across the room, flung away under the sheer number of souls that the elder archangel commanded now. The Winchesters hurried their way over to help Gabriel after he fell to the floor, while Castiel foolishly faced up against his now powered up rival, eyes narrowing as he spoke. “You need to let the souls _go_ , Raphael.”

The archangel only tilted his vessel's head, looking sincerely unimpressed. “And let you have them instead, Castiel?” he asked, and as he questioned a small smile started to form on his face, one that did nothing but send chills down Gabriel's spine as he saw it appear. 

“This is no longer about the war, Raphael,” Cas quickly tried to reason, “You need to let the souls go before they take you over.”

Raphael shook his head in response, smile widening. “The souls,” he echoed the angel, raising a hand and studying it in a way that was not like Raphael at all. “To have this amount of power at your fingertips,” he said, looking up from his hand and stared at Gabriel then, and it was sickening to hear that strange happy thrill that had suddenly crept into the edges of his voice at that. “I can see why anybody would be after something like this so badly.”

Shit, this was really starting to get from bad to worse. Gabriel pried himself from the support that the Winchesters were giving him, taking one step forward as he stared right into his brother's eyes and tried to plead one last time. “C'mon, bro,” he started, forcing a smile on his own face. “The souls aren't going to do jack for you. Let them go before it’s too late.” Before things became irreparable.

For a moment, Gabriel could see the other's eyes soften and it almost seemed like Raphael was going to listen—but then that moment passed and Raphael's expression instantly hardened again, and Gabriel found himself being thrown around to another side of the room, this time with much more force. He could hear Castiel's surprised cry as he collided brutally against the wall, but Gabriel found himself unable to respond as Raphael continued to pin him, pressed down by the sheer power that the elder archangel now held in his hands.

“It's only _now_ when you try pulling that card on me, Gabriel?” Raphael asked, slowly moving towards him. Castiel and the Winchesters also attempted to get to Gabriel and presumably pull him out of harm's way but Raphael was faster and also stronger, quickly sending all three of them crashing to the floor with a simple wave of his hand, without even so much as blinking. Gabriel's eyes widened at the sight, struggling all that he could against the force pinning him against the wall but to no avail. Raphael took the last few steps and stopped before him, laying one hand on his cheek as the elder archangel turned his heard around so that their gazes could meet, hazel brown meeting jet black. 

The smile on Raphael's face turned mirthless and wry as he looked at Gabriel. “I was the one who had to keep everything together,” he muttered, a pang of regret in his voice. “Michael was so focused on nothing else but Lucifer and you were gone, too. There was nobody who I could ask for help, nobody who I could talk to.” A flash of hurt crossed the elder archangel's face then, just a brief glimpse of all the years that he had to spend in making sure Heaven was in order when there had been no more order in the first place. “Where were you when I needed you most, Gabriel?”

Gabriel swallowed dryly, keeping his gaze fixed onto Raphael's while trying to speak, to apologize, to say something because he had never thought about it that way, about how it was Raphael who was saddled with everything, when everybody else couldn't be there. All this time, and he had never realized— “Raph—I didn't—”

Rather than having made it better though, Gabriel's words only seemed to make things worse. Raphael's expression darkened, and in the next instant there was nothing but _pain_ and Gabriel was choking on it blindly, feeling the agony crushing his bones and seeping through his Grace. Raphael's power was crushing him almost literally, and if he pushed just a little more, Gabriel was certain that it would smash his Grace into a million scattered pieces and send him out to the winds. 

“Of course you didn't know,” he hissed back, unforgiving and harsh. “All of you were ever only occupied with yourselves. But now I stand triumphant above you all. You and Michael and Lucifer will know what your mistakes are, and you will all pay for it.”

Raphael raised his hand and clenched his fist after saying that, and Gabriel could feel the pressure against him increasing, crushing him tighter and tighter until there was nothing but pain, nothing but agony. Gabriel opened his mouth to cry out and somewhere in the distance he heard somebody calling out his name over and over again in distress and panic but the noises were starting to fade, senses disappearing as he felt himself breaking apart shard by shard, his Grace slowly flickering out under the strength of his brother—

Then suddenly it all stopped, and Gabriel felt himself falling to the floor, crumpling into a heap on the ground as the pressure crushing him suddenly vanished without a trace of it left. Castiel was helping him up at the next instant, a hand pressing on his chest and Gabriel felt the familiar warmth of Castiel's Grace as the angel passed some of his own over to the archangel. Gabriel forced his eyes open, staring down at the hand still on his chest for a moment before he turned his gaze towards the angel beside him and asked the question. “What happened?”

Castiel didn't answer the question directly, but he shifted his sight and Gabriel followed, pausing when he finally saw what the angel was seeing and felt fear rolling up from his gut. Raphael was on his knees on the ground, one hand clutched at his side while another clawed at his own throat. The elder archangel was gagging and heaving for breath, seemingly choking on something while the rest of his vessel trembled and shook violently. At first Gabriel was lost as to why Raphael was suddenly acting like that, but just as he was about to ask, he could feel the sickening pulse of something torrid and poisonous sweeping through the room, and the surge of black that crawled through the veins of Raphael's vessel made things click in Gabriel's mind.

“The Leviathans,” he hissed, panic swelling now as the implications started to run in his mind. The Leviathans were already starting to take over Raphael, and it was going to be a matter of time before they'd succeed. They had to be sent back to Purgatory _now_ , before it was too late and the world would be doomed.

Gabriel gritted his teeth. “We need to reopen Purgatory,” he started, glancing around as his mind whirled, trying to think of something, _anything_ that could work. “Raph's already a lost cause by now; we're going to have to throw him in with the Leviathans before they take over.” Father, it hurt a lot to say that, but there was no other way now—this was the best way to ensure that _all_ of the Leviathans would return to Purgatory. If one of them even remained in this world, then everything would be for naught.

“Well, great,” Dean started, scowling. “Except we don't know how to open Purgatory in the first place.”

“That's not true,” Castiel cut in then, voice soft as he glanced between the rest of them. “I know the spell that Crowley used. He... shared it with me while we were still working together.”

The archangel could see a pulse twitching in Dean's jaw, but he quickly got over it and nodded curtly. “Alright, so we've got the spell. Cas can still open Purgatory right back up and we'll send Teenage Mutant Ninja Angel back home.”

A dark chuckle came from behind them after those words. “If it were that easy, things wouldn't be so complicated in this world anymore.”

Four heads turned around and an equal number of pairs of eyes widened in surprise at the sudden appearance of Jack Crow yet again, the boy Trickster looking at them all with a mirthless little gleam in his eyes. Dean regarded the psychopomp with notable suspicion, but it was Sam who asked the question, frowning. “What do you mean?”

“Think of Purgatory as a hive,” Crow started, one eye fixated on them as another glanced up to the tattered brim of his fedora, playing at the edge of it with a hand. “And Eve is the Mother of All, the Queen. When the Queen dies, what do you think will happen to the rest?”

“There will be no order, no direction,” Castiel answered, blinking as he quickly linked the similarities from what he knew to the words he had just said. “Purgatory will be in chaos.”

Jack Crow hummed a sound of agreement. “When there is chaos the waters of the Lake of Souls will be disturbed, along with the first beasts who resides within them,” he said, and smiled an unkind smile at the surprised looks that crossed everyone's face at the revelation. “There must always be one who leads Purgatory, in order to keep the balance.”

A leader of Heaven, a leader of Hell, and a leader of Purgatory. It did make sense, once Gabriel thought about it for a moment. But that wasn't the point now—Raphael would be lost to the Leviathans at any moment, and they needed to do _something_.

“Isn't there anybody inside Purgatory who can do that?” Sam questioned.

The psychopomp shook his head. “Why do you think the dragons needed a virgin to bring forth Eve?” he asked back in turn, voice dropping to a rasp. “It's about the power, vessel of Lucifer. Surely you can understand that.”

Gabriel rolled the words around in his head, repeating them over and over again within his mind. “So basically,” he started, slowly and carefully, because he could feel the dots connecting in his head and somehow, somehow the possibility he had thought up didn't seem to frighten him at all, even though Gabriel knew that it should. But there was nothing else he could think of, and if this would guarantee the safety of everything in this world, then... “Basically,” he repeated, steeling himself, “If anybody could handle the power you're talking about, he or she or it would be Purgatory's new leader?”

Crow seemed to pause at that, red eyes gazing at Gabriel for a brief, telling moment before the boy dipped his head in acknowledgment. “There have only been few who have managed to control that power,” he informed, seemingly already having caught on to what Gabriel thought. “Demons would be destroyed instantly. Anybody from Purgatory would simply go mad from it; humans, of course, end up like the former Mother of All. Angels would only end up like the Healer over there.” He gestured to the now-writhing Raphael, veins still dancing in black blood and Gabriel could feel their influence expanding, almost taking over his brother. 

Gabriel knew that this was what he had to do. He pushed himself away from Castiel's aid, stumbling forward towards Raphael now as he said his next few words. “Cas, start the spell.”

It only took a moment after that for Castiel to catch on, and the angel's eyes instantly widened. “Gabriel, _no._ ”

“What—” Dean started, totally lost in the conversation, but Sam caught on as well as soon as he saw Castiel's response and informed his brother.

“Dean,” he said, biting his lip. “Gabriel's going to do what I did with Lucifer.”

Dean stared blankly at his brother for a moment before the words caught up with him, and then he was turning his head around, staring at Gabriel with a wide-eyed look of his own before he narrowed his eyes and hissed out fiercely. “What the _fuck_ , Gabriel?”

“It's the only way,” Gabriel pointed out, giving himself a moment before he bent down and picked up Raphael with minimal effort, relishing the warmth and strength of his own Grace for what most likely would be the last time. “You Idiotchesters aren't going to let each other sacrifice yourselves, and Castiel's still a bona-fide angel.”

“But you are too—” Sam started to say, but Gabriel cut him off with a shake of his head.

“I've never been a complete angel,” he finally admitted, recalling the words that Loki had told him last time. _The angel who left Heaven and became a Trickster. You are worth so much more than you can imagine._ Now, perhaps, he could finally see what it was that Loki meant back then. Right from the start he had never been _just_ Gabriel, _just_ the Messenger of Heaven; he had also been Loki, a Trickster, a pagan god of his own right. He wasn't quite complete in any way that one could look at it—never belonging to a single place, but it was in that grey, in-between area that made him who he was, who he is.

Sam fell silent after that response, but Castiel spoke up again, and his voice was pleading this time, desperate and it hurt Gabriel's heart so much to hear that, because Castiel should have never even gotten close to him in the first place. “Gabriel, _please_. There has to be some other way.”

“There is no other way,” Gabriel returned insistently, turning back after those words and moving towards the blood-stained wall with Raphael struggling at his side. The Leviathans would take over his brother any moment now, he could tell. “Say the spell, Cas. Please.”

“Gabriel—”

“ _Say it!_ Or I'll dig it out of your head and do it myself.”

For a moment there was silence and everything seemed to still for a moment, and Gabriel really was almost going to force the spell out from Castiel when he heard the angel start to speak, the words rolling off in hitches of breath as Cas forced himself to recite the incantation, reopening the door to Purgatory and finally getting this thing done.

The wall began to crack again as the spell was spoken, bits and chunks of the symbol burning away as the door was opened and Gabriel could feel the heat of Purgatory against his skin again, a heat the archangel supposed he would have to get used to in time—time which Gabriel was certain he would have a lot of.

Raphael (or rather, the Leviathans) struggled against him now, pinned by the pull of Purgatory against them as Gabriel turned his head to look at Castiel and the Winchesters one last time, an apologetic expression crossing his face when he saw the heartbreaking look on the angel's face, before he turned his gaze to Dean and smiled wryly at him.

“Make sure to take good care of Cas now, Dean-o,” he allowed himself to say before throwing himself right through the hole, Raphael's vessel following alongside him. A shout of his name cried out in-between the seconds where he crossed the threshold, but after that there was nothing but the wind roaring in his ears as he fell, falling through along with the Leviathans screaming beside him as the pit better known as Purgatory roared and opened up wide, ready to swallow them both and keep them there for all eternity. Gabriel didn’t know what was going to happen once he went through, didn’t know if Raphael would even survive with all those souls inside that vessel, didn’t know if he actually would even live through this himself. A million and one things could happen the moment they entered Purgatory, and Gabriel didn’t know any of them. There was still a damned good chance he might actually die again the second he went through, but strangely the thought didn’t scare him as much as it should have.

He could feel the heat and the velocity cutting through his body now, starting to rip his body into shreds and the Leviathan's screams continued to echo right beside him. There was a roar as the souls of Purgatory started getting pulled back by the nature of the place they were falling into, each soul dragging out another cry from the other archangel. Gabriel himself didn’t watch and only heard, but even those screams eventually faded into background noise as he thought and remembered about Dean and Sam and Castiel, recalling the short time he had spent with them—a time that had felt like a lifetime to him, a lifetime that had changed him much more than the rest of his existence ever could. 

Gabriel let a smile cross his face and closed his eyes, waiting for the heat and the souls to consume him whole.

If this was how his life was supposed to end, then it wasn’t that bad of a way to go at all.


	15. epilogue

**Ø: epilogue—all this leads to one outcome.**

It was like waking up from a long dream.

Dean opened his eyes, blinking as the world slowly came into focus around him—or rather, the view of the half-peeled ceiling that he was staring at. He only had a moment to himself before there was a shift in the space beside him, and Dean blinked when a warm hand snaked over his chest, pressing over the area where his heart was.

“Dean?” came the half-murmured inquiry from a low, gravelly voice he now so frequently heard in his life. 

He turned his head around to smile sleepily at Cas, leaning in to bury his nose in the other’s hair and breathe in that scent of ozone and sea-spray he now loved so much. “Nothing, Cas. Just thinking.”

Castiel responded with a soft hum as he shifted closer, ducking his head down so that he could nuzzle at the junction between Dean’s neck and shoulder as he murmured out, “About what?”

“Stuff,” was all that Dean said, free hand now coming up so that he could tangle his finger in Cas’ mussed hair and mess it up even further as he gently tugged the other’s head up enough to place a kiss on his forehead. “Time really flies, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” Castiel replied evenly, now much more awake as blue eyes gazed up to look at Dean, blinking before he added. “It’s been a year since that day.”

Dean let out a quiet sigh, the hand in Cas’ hair now stroking his cheek as the hunter closed his eyes. “A year, huh.”

The silence that came after Purgatory closed was almost absolute, and Dean could only watch as his brother moved to and knelt at the space before where the hole in the wall once was. It was gone now, just like back in Stull Cemetery with Lucifer’s Cage. Dean wasn’t sure if he wanted to see the irony of that.

Cas was pretty affected by it as well, staring forlornly at the wall and speaking in a voice so soft that only Dean could hear him say the words. ‘Brother… why?’ Dean opened his mouth to answer, but then before he could say anything a most unexpected voice cut across into his response. 

“You know why he had to, Cas. It was his choice.”

All three of them turned around when they heard the voice, and spent the next few moments staring in shock at the white-dressed man who had just appeared and was now standing before them. Sam was the one who broke the silence, getting up on his feet as he started cautiously. “…Chuck?”

Chuck Shurley gave a small, nervous smile and held up his hand. “Hey, guys.”

Castiel was the one who spoke up next after that, his voice barely a whisper. “…Father?”

The prophet smiled, and when he replied this time there was no doubt as to his identity at all. “Castiel, my youngest child. The angel of Thursday. You have suffered much.”

“You’re _God_ ,” Dean finally managed to find his voice, still staring at Chuck, even as he was struggling to snap his jaw back shut. “You’re fucking _God_. Fuck.” Chuck was _God_? What the hell was going on here?

“It’s kind of a long story,” Chuck replied, all the Chuck-ness still in that response as much as the God part of him was, when he looked past them and towards somebody else entirely. “Trickster.”

The three of them turned around when they heard him call, following the man's gaze and looked at the girl who now stood before them all, dressed in black once again. “God,” Loki’s voice held a quiet sort of mirth as the girl smiled softly, looking at the man with barely-disguised fondness. “Nice digs.”

Chuck laughed. “Thanks,” he returned, smiling himself now. “You really helped this time.”

The Trickster only shrugged. “Consider it repayment for my previous meddling.” Even with the words there was no way to hide the quiet pain that was audible in the voice, and Dean could sense the hurt that she felt. Even though she had never seemed to voice it out properly, Dean knew that Gabriel was somebody the Trickster had come to care for and to lose him was something that did strike close to the Trickster’s heart. He also knew that she would weep for him later and mourn for the sacrifice that he had made, but not now when everybody else was still here.

Chuck—or well, God—most likely knew that as well, which explained the apologetic look that crossed his face before he turned back to Dean and the rest. “First—I have to apologize for all of this. I thought things would be better once the Apocalypse was over—”

“You think?” Dean started, ignoring the glare that Sam gave him for those words.

“Yeah, I know,” Chuck returned, looking apologetic once again. “And I’m really sorry. But, well—free will. That’s how the show here is being run now. Your choices, your consequences.”

Castiel spoke up. “Gabriel—”

Chuck turned around to look at the angel, smiling sadly as he spoke. “He’s made his choice, Castiel.”

“And you’re willing to let him remain there for eternity?” Castiel shot back, his voice going higher and louder. Dean couldn’t help but pause a little at that, surprised at the force of the angel’s words. To have Cas speak up like that—yeah, Gabriel definitely meant a lot to him; Dean already knew, but it never really struck him until now just how much Gabriel’s sacrifice was affecting the other. In a way, the archangel had been Castiel’s only real brother—and Dean could very well-relate to the feeling of losing your own brother to something you couldn’t control.

Chuck didn’t flinch, but the apologetic look crossed his features once more and the man ducked his head. His eyes trailed over to stare at the spot on the wall, where Gabriel had thrown himself across earlier, and for a moment Dean could see another expression entirely on his face. “He made his choice,” he repeated himself, regret much more audible in his voice now. “And that’s just how things are going to go.” Maybe Dean was just imagining things here, but he could almost swear the man was clenching his fists as he said that.

It was hard to just stand there and listen to everything much longer. Dean stepped forward, placing one hand on Cas’ shoulder as he looked straight at Chuck. “Is this how it’s going to be then, Chuck? Free will?”

“The plan’s always been about free will, Dean,” the other man returned with a wry smile, “From the moment you and Sam stopped the Apocalypse, free will’s been the name of the game. This,” he gestured mildly towards everything in general, “—this is just another chapter after the end. An important one, but still a chapter all the same.”

Sam spoke up now, cautiously stepping closer himself as he looked warily at Chuck. “So what happens now?”

“The world continues,” and this time it wasn't Loki or Chuck who spoke, but Jack Crow, the psychopomp taking two steps forward as he removed the fedora he was wearing, revealing dark, unruly locks of hair that fell across his face and framed his features. “Everything will go on as it always has, oblivious to the fact that their lives might have already perished twice. The days will keep on passing us by and life will go on as it’s always has.” The boy Trickster raised his head up, eyes twinkling, and a quiet, mirthful smile crossed his face. “More of the same, just as it’s always been.”

“More of the same,” Sam repeated quietly, turning his gaze over to Dean, who returned his brother’s look and then went to glance at Castiel. The angel was silent now, unable to say anything—but Dean could see how his jaw was tightly clenched and how his body was trembling under his hand. The man let out a loud hiss of breath through his nose and squeezed the hand he had on Castiel’s shoulder; there would be time to mourn, and there would be time to pick up the pieces and move on from this. It would be a while, perhaps, before anything was truly alright again… but hey, time was what they had now. Time was all they needed for this.

“Thank you, Dean.”

Dean opened his eyes at the sudden words of gratitude, blinking in confusion. “What for?” he asked, not at all sure where this was coming from.

Castiel hummed quietly and leaned into the hand at his cheek, his own eyes closed now as he replied. “For being there for me after everything. For helping me deal with Gabriel’s loss, and for forgiving me for my trespasses.”

“S’nothing,” the hunter swiftly replied, starting to feel the warm fuzzy feeling that came with the oncoming chick-flick moments he had with Cas these days. “You lost your brother. I could understand that feeling. And besides, it wasn’t as if everything was your fault.” As far as Dean himself was concerned, he made his fair share of mistakes too back then. For not empathising with Cas and helping him when he needed it most, for having pushed him around too often… he couldn’t really consider himself innocent in the whole mess either. “What’s more important is that they’re fixed now.”

“Yes,” Castiel agreed, scooting close enough so that they could press against each other, melding skin onto skin in a way that made Dean groan softly and shift his hand to cup the back of Cas’ head. “Fixed and even improved upon.”

“That’s one way to put it,” Dean returned before he groaned again when he felt Cas’ hands already sneaking around his waist. He attempted to reach down and push them away, speaking up again. “Sammy’s going to be here in thirty, you know. We’re supposed to be heading for Michigan to take down a Wendigo.”

Cas’ only response to that was to push on with what he was doing, lowering his head to start placing little kisses across Dean’s collarbones. “There’s a lot of things we can do within that time,” he murmured against the side of Dean’s throat when he got there, hot and wet as he sucked on the patch of sensitive skin at the junction hard enough to leave a bruise.

“ _Cas,_ ” Dean groaned even as his fingers were already winding themselves into the other’s hair.

The angel only smiled as he shifted himself to the space between the hunter’s legs. “Consider this a ‘thank you’ present.”

Exactly thirty minutes later, Sam Winchester would enter and then exit the room straight away, while (once again) demanding for something to erase the image seared into his eyes. Dean would only laugh, and Castiel would smile in that special way of his that Dean had long since come to love and cherish.

There were still Wendigos and ghosts and all sorts of beasts to hunt down and life wasn’t exactly _perfect_ —but it was still as good as Dean knew he was going to get.


	16. encore

**∞: encore—after the end.**

“One for sorrow, two for mirth…”

The girl’s voice echoed within the vast space of Purgatory, the sky above her blazing like molten gold. Ash and dust scattered into the air with each step she took with her black sport shoes, revealing the worn out path beneath her feet that stretched and meandered down into an almost endless road, cutting through dried grass and blackened undergrowth. Somewhere further there was the gleam of water, its shine catching Loki’s emerald eyes. The Trickster let out a sigh as she walked, quietly noticing the changes from when she had last been here. Purgatory was never going to be a nice place, not really, but at least these days it was far more bearable than she remembered it to be. At least that was something she could look forward to.

Humming under her breath, the girl continued to walk down the path laid before her, continuing her little rhyme. “Three for a wedding and four for a birth.” The sky stood cloudless as always above her, burning like fire as something dark and unrecognizable flew past when Loki glanced up. There was no sun in the sky, no natural source of light—but the skies still burned, and the world of Purgatory still continued to be visible to her. The Trickster took a moment to scuff her shoes before moving again, making her way closer towards the flash of water she had seen earlier. “Five for silver, six for gold…”

The path was starting to clear a little better now, ashes becoming more infrequent and Loki didn’t need to guess just who was the one doing it. There were trees as well, twisted, parodied versions of them that stood in Purgatory with their blackened branches and dried leaves, serving as nothing more but decorations. It was just one of the many warped things that Purgatory provided, something that apparently stayed on despite the changes in management in these recent times. The girl let out a snort but smiled, amusement gleaming in her eyes as she opened her mouth. “Seven for a secret not to be told,” she spoke, her gaze flickering towards the lake that was now all the more closer.

Her feet took her close to the threshold between the path and the lake shore, and scorched earth now gave way to dry sand as Loki walked down the dune, towards the lone figure she saw standing at the shore of the lake, raising her voice to speak again while coming closer. “Eight for heaven, nine for hell…”

“And ten for the devil’s own self,” the figure finished for her, pausing after that in order to sigh. “Don’t you ever get bored with that?”

Loki only made a shrug. “I like how it sounds.”

The figure snorted in response, sounding completely disbelieving of the Trickster’s words. There was another pause before he spoke up again. “So, what’s up?”

“Wanted to see how you were doing,” the girl replied, taking a few steps closer. “Management in Purgatory isn’t that bad, is it?”

There was another snort. “I guess. Most of the time I just need to put on the wings and flare out a little mojo before they decide to listen to me.”

Loki chuckled, clearly amused by the answer. “Well, you know I can always give you pointers for management, if you need ‘em?”

“You?” the figure returned, snorting for a third time. “Please. Both of us know just how bad you are at it.”

The girl rolled her eyes in response. “Pot calling kettle black, Gabe, you know it.”

Gabriel turned his head around now to give Loki an exasperated look, once hazel eyes now brimming with a deep, wine-red colour. His shoulder blades shimmered with Purgatory-infused Grace, and Loki could make out the dark, black shadows that had been the archangel’s once-brilliant wings. They had been white and pure before, made of Grace and light, but obviously being in Purgatory had changed things. Now they were black as night, shades of every color in the human spectrum gleaming with every shift of his wings in a manner that resembled oil slicks. His clothes were darker these days too, closer to the outfits that Loki herself would wear under the Trickster’s mantle—most likely to hide all the dirt and grime and blood that constantly made their way to him.

Turning her gaze back to the other, Loki rolled her shoulders and started again. “So, new head honcho of Purgatory, how has it been hanging?”

“Decent enough,” Gabriel replied simply, turning his head back to look at the lake. “Lenore and Madison have been helping me.”

This time it was Loki who snorted, black hair brushing across her shoulders as the Trickster shook her head. “They knew the Winchesters too, huh?”

The smile on Gabriel’s face was a wry one. “They have friends everywhere, didn’t you know?”

“Now I do.” Loki glanced at her former subject, the archangel who became a Trickster and then now something else entirely. She followed his gaze to the lake, seeing past it and glancing at the little crack that sprawled across Purgatory’s lone entrance. “You know they’ll be alright, Gabriel. All of ‘em.”

The former angel dropped his head and sighed, weariness crusted in his voice as he spoke. “I can’t close Purgatory entirely no matter how much I try,” he muttered, mild frustration growing at the edges. “There’s still going to be monsters roaming across the Earth.”

Loki was silent for a moment before talking, bringing her eyes up to the sky and then speaking. “Can’t say I know what the big guy really plans, but—” She dropped her gaze back down to Gabriel and shrugged again. “—maybe that’s how things are just supposed to be. If there’re no monsters then there’d be no more hunters, right? Gotta keep the cycle. Circle of life and all that jazz.”

Gabriel let out a laugh upon hearing those words. “You’ve been watching too much Disney, man.”

The Trickster grinned and winked back in return. “It’s a secret between us.”

Smiling brightly, Gabriel gave the girl another small nod before he looked up to the sky, sensing Loki’s gaze following him as well and they watched the small, dark shape of a crow flapping by and rising upwards in tight little spirals into the air, cawing out loudly as its black form blurred against infinite expanse of the fiery skies which stretched endlessly above them all.

  
  
the end.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing this note now, I can say for a fact that I have a lot of ~feelings~ in actually managing to post this in its entirety (while blowing my brain out through my nose - goddammit flu). This has been a work in progress ever since September, and to see it wholly complete and up... well, I can say that I certainly feel accomplished, although I do solemnly swear never to write a fic as big as this again. OTL HOW DO PEOPLE DO THIS.
> 
> That said, I have a whole bunch of people to thank for making this possible - first, to the awesome mods of the [gabriel_bigbang](http://gabriel-bigbang.livejournal.com/) challenge who had to put up with all my minty newness when I first signed up for the challenge. In between writing this a lot of things have happened, and I have gained a lot of experience, and I think in putting up this story I have surpassed all of that and become a better person than before. Hopefully. Another person I have to thank is [tawg](http://tawg.livejournal.com/), who has let me bounce ideas off her and encouraged me when I needed to get my ass into finishing this story before the deadlines. Also to my two last minute betas [tinypinkmouse](http://tinypinkmouse.livejournal.com/) and [bekkamero](http://bekkamero.livejournal.com/) for using their eleventh hour beta superpowers to go through this monster for me. And of course, internet twin Michele for enduring my neverending spam about FEELINGS and PLOT or whatever it was I needed to spam about to her on AIM/Plurk/Tumblr.
> 
> After having spent so much time and effort in writing this beast, I'm really glad to say that its' finally complete, and I really really hope you guys have enjoyed this story. I've never written something as big and/or epic like this before, so to hear anything from you guys will be very much appreciated.


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